


Nothing Like a Present (or Twelve) to Tell You How I Feel

by PeacefulDiscord



Category: Naruto
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21768484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeacefulDiscord/pseuds/PeacefulDiscord
Summary: Someone knows Tobirama a little too well and he doesn’t like it.  Really.  They need to stop getting him presents.Or the one where Tobirama’s admirer wants the man to see what’s not on paper, damn it, and Tobirama is totally feeling the love.UNDER MAJOR RECONSTRUCTION
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 73
Kudos: 292





	1. Day 1: Partridge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BeTheCheeto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeTheCheeto/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The 12 Days of Christmas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13019028) by [BeTheCheeto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeTheCheeto/pseuds/BeTheCheeto). 



> Shout out to BeTheCheeto for inspiring this :) 
> 
> Also, there is some profanity, if that bothers anyone
> 
> Note: The divider signifies a break-- its technically two stories in one. The beginning will always be mostly canon!Konoha whereas the second part is a modern day AU.

The winter festivities were so close to beginning, the preparations sending the village abuzz in the most colorful and frantic of fashions, and nothing could make Tobirama feel any more bitter. Every decoration, every sweet or elaborate dish, every joyous expression from _Anija_ soured his mood until he felt little more than wretched. 

He didn't care that others were celebrating, didn't care that they were happy when he was not. He was not so selfish to want others to be as bathed with misery as he was, not when there was a chance to move past their sorrows and grievances, a chance to truly live rather than scrambling to survive. Tobirama had given up his anger, his hatred. Thrown it away just as quickly as he'd rid himself of his happuri with the Senju crest and replaced it with Konoha's, not quite tossed aside but a lingering memory one was not meant to dwell upon. Now, in its place, was aggrieved righteousness. Betrayal, sadness. 

How could he feel anything else? 

It has been almost two decades since Kawarama's passing and it still felt as though he were standing by the too small coffin, listening to Anija and Itama sob while he forced his own cries far down into his throat, buried it in his chest beneath his broken heart because he, at the very least, he was his father's most proper shinobi. The one that obeyed so Anija could refuse, the one that was as hard and unfeeling as stone so Itama could be as soft as the gentle hands he used to heal. Buried his feelings with the brother that would feel no more only to dredge them up on the anniversary of his passing, on birthdays replaced with funerals, on _any_ and _every_ moment of joy he was to live in, was to seek, when he couldn't share it with the brother he had once shared everything with. 

Only to watch Anija live as if those memories didn't exist at all. As if Kawarama didn't exist at all. Because everyone knew Itama, knew him as the brother whose passing had led to Uchiha Madara's and Hashirama's great friendship. 

They forgot the boy with the crossed star. The boy who had been Tobirama's twin in every respect other than their separate births and looks, only the small, meaningless difference of a little over a year and their coloring telling the world they were not one and the same. 

Not that Tobirama didn't love Itama. He loved, loves him so much that his heart still hurt at the thought of him. Remembers his gentleness and curiosity in the face of Sarutobi Hiruzen's empathy and desire to solve the world, had one too many times nearly let his tongue slip and say the wrong name. Yes, younger boy was a heart-breaking precious, pure and rare ( _and gone_ ), and Tobirama was overjoyed no one would forget his loss as was the case with so many others. It was just...the love was just different, less as a brother and more as a son— his to teach and adore, to dote upon and beg treats for from elders rather than to learn with and challenge, to tease and prank others who dared catch their eye. And not just Itama, but Kawarama should be remembered too. Remembered for his bravery and wit, his playful nature and easy smile, crookish and kind and easier to give forgiveness than even Hashirama. So yes, he should be remembered and honored, graced even in death that no day went by that someone didn't wish he were alive. At least by Anija of all people. Tobirama shouldn't be the only one whose heart could not be fixed. 

And yet, as he stared at the flurry around him, the whipping of hair of busy men and women, papers, lanterns, and fireworks all stacked and trailing and hung about— long brown hair right in the middle draped across spiky black, Tobirama knew he was. For all that his brother was an emotional, bumbling fool, the older man's aches eased quickly, dissipating so rapidly (quite nearly gone if Tobirama were to be honest) diffused and washed away by the comfort and companionship of the others Hashirama had befriended that the pain had an appearance of a mirage, real only to the tricks playing through your mind. Tobirama didn't care for it, didn't want to deal with the forlorn and pouty looks Hashirama was sure to shoot him or the responsibility of helping plan activities he knew his brothers would have delighted in. And like any good shinobi worth their salt when faced with unpleasant circumstances, he made like the wind and disappeared into his office with no more than a shiver of disturbance.

Which led to the next point of confusion. 

Perched upon his desk was a simple box, it's cream colored wrapping and a multicolored bow neatly done, crisped edges fitted perfectly to the structure beneath the paper. 

Examining it for traps or seals or unfamiliar jutsus proved fruitless; there wasn't a single point of interest that would warrant such an item being on his desk. And there were much too many residual chakra signatures of people he did know for him to consider the box to be anything but some sort of gift. A thank you perhaps? But from whom? And _why_?? He hadn't helped a single soul recently— hadn't met one that didn't make him want to yank his own hair from its roots. Maybe he'd killed someone that was already wanted dead by someone else? That was a possibility.

Carefully, Tobirama unwrapped the cloth, putting aside the tag that bore his name and shimmying the bow off before cutting into the cardboard. Sitting in the box was a toy, one you'd give a _child. S_ urely a mistake then. 

The snow leopard doll (it wasn't quite a doll, but Tobirama knew no other word to describe it) was large, nearly half the length of his torso, and fairly light in weight. It was similar perhaps, to the ones poorer civilians gave their children, made with soft fabrics and sewn into shape rather than carved or molded from clay or porcelain but nothing of this toy suggested a lack of money. The thick coat was furred, the fluffy material feeling much like his armor's collar, and the plumped inside was firm but malleable like well-worn fabrics pressed into every crevice. Or maybe, he gently squeezed the toy, maybe it was just filled with cotton, squishy and bouncy as it tended to be before it was spun into spools. The eyes were the most impressive; they had a marbled texture— smooth and rounded on one side and flat where it was attached to the toy— the surface intricately painted in blue, black, and hints of gray, striking in its detail and realism. Tobirama's heart warmed and he cradled the toy to his chest, tucking it beneath his chin. It was like holding Akira, the youngest of his summons, when the leopard was but a cub. A folded note lay on the bottom of the box.

_The western nations have a song of Christmas, a holiday of Christian origins that has been complemented with traits from other cultures and traditions. There exists a song, "The 12 Days of Christmas". The first line goes as so:_

_On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, a partridge in a pear tree._

_I am no true love of yours, not in this moment, but perhaps you'll humor my attempts to win your favor._

_In earnest and terrible fashion:_

_On the first day of Christmas, your admirer gave to thee,  
A tiny leopard baby_

_It's fitting, your summons. I hadn't notice before, it's fierce but gentle nature is much like your own. I hope it comforts you while I cannot._

Tobirama felt his breath catch. The gift wasn't a coincidence then or a reference to his summons alone. Whoever it was knew him well, knew enough to realize the day and it's significance. 

His stomach fluttered. 12 days? They couldn't be serious. 

  
————————————————

A Modern Mix in the West: 

Tobirama swore internally, just barely catching himself on the door before he slid off the porch step and went flying onto the pavement. This morning was awful. Kawarama has been experimenting on the clock, because of course, so Tobirama's alarm didn't go off so by the time Hashirama was shaking him awake in concern, he had only 15 minutes to get ready and leave if he were to get to class on time. Then, because he'd woken so late, it meant Itama got the shower first and finished all the hot water so he had to take a cold shower. In the middle of fucking winter. _And their heat wasn't even on because **Kawarama messed that up too**_. Then, he couldn't find his hearing aids even though he always left them in the same spot, except when his mother decides to help tidy his room. Then the damn things end up packed away where he _doesn't want them._

And then, _as if it that all wasn't bad enough_ , there was absolutely no coffee or tea or anything in the house he could grab to eat. So he was going to his Stochastic Processes class to learn about continuous time and submartingales when he could barely even think past his hazy, sleep-addled desire to say screw it and just climb back in bed. Oh, and it apparently snowed last night, a couple inches worth, which meant his car—

Had not a single piece of ice or snow on the windshield? Tobirama blinked. Looked at the ground. Stared at his car. 

Whatever ice or snow that should've been on his windshield was scraped off, replaced instead by a snow leopard plushie sat beside a simple Tupperware bowl and thermos. Tobirama cautiously approached, key held between his fingers like a weapon. He was too young to lulled to false security and die. Not when he was so close to his finishing his second PhD. 

There was no one around and he was late. Maybe if he died, his tardiness would be excused. Gently tossing the toy into his car and placing the bowl into his bag (the thermos had coffee, he could smell it, that was going in his cup holder so it could go in his mouth), Tobirama hauled himself to school, safely and absolutely not speeding if his dad asked. Once he'd all but collapsed into his seat— his professor was apparently running late and wouldn't be there for another half hour because the world didn't hate him enough it seemed— Tobirama pulled out the mysterious dish. 

Two small grain and nut pancakes with whip cream and eggs. Well-seasoned eggs, not the one overflowing with vegetables of all godforsaken variety as Anija preferred making. One of the few American meals he loved, one his Japanese father nor Latina mother could not make for some unfathomable reason (they probably just didn't want to, American food was a treat not everyday meals after all). It smelled heavenly.

The Tupperware looked like one of theirs. Sort of. Twenty-two wasn’t too young. If he died, at least the food had been good.

That afternoon he found the note that had been tied to the plushie’s paw. 

_‘Sup Senju? Heard your lazy ass was running late. I hope you found this note before you gave in to the food but, knowing you, you probably didn’t. Whatever. Also, because I know you, I know you haven’t realized a_ ny _of my feelings for you so I’m doing this the cringey Hallmark channel way._

 _12 Days of Christmas. Don’t bother asking anyone, they’re all in on it— you are quite literally the only one who hasn’t notic_ ed. _You got eleven more days. Let’s see if your genius can help you figure me out._

He considered. There were many people who spoke that way to him— Izuna, Atif, Sonia, Maria, hell, even Mito spoke that way to him (but it most likely, hopefully, wasn’t his brother’s fiancé). He scoffed, curling up beneath his blanket, pressing his cheek to the toy. 11 days was too much time. He was a genius. He’d figure it out by then. 

Until then, Tobirama snuggled closer to the toy, he couldn’t wait to see what other presents were coming. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have other stories I should be working on and yeah, that’s not happening sooooo I want to get this done by Christmas but I make no promises. 
> 
> Also, the modern AU. One of my personal favorite AU ideas is Tobirama being deaf for no particular reason (hard-of-hearing actually, but the deaf community, in America at least, is comprised of both people who are deaf and hard-of-hearing that feel that they belong to the community and practice the culture. So he uses the term deaf in reference to his condition). 
> 
> I was going to leave the relationship tag out as a “surprise” but thought about it, and decided that might be a little stupid since many only read for certain ships. 
> 
> Questions/comments let me know what you guys think!


	2. Turtle Doves

They were serious. His admirer had every intention to continue this ridiculous gift-giving. And judging by how much more creative they were getting, they intended to follow through all the way.

Tobirama should have known better. To him, there was no sense in getting someone twelve days' worth of gifts. He'd found a copy of the song; each line grew progressively more and more elaborate, grossly decadent in its apparent splendor or whatever it may be that it represented. Somewhere mentioned a more Western religion in reference but he didn't have enough knowledge to understand the connections. Without it, the song seemed little more than fanciful and utterly wasteful. No one would be so foolish, so willing to make such a grand expenditure for the sake of Tobirama _potentially_ returning their affection. And if they were, how did they have the means to do so? There were much more efficient and practical ways to make use of one's resources. (If the biggest puzzle of it all was that this effort, this grandiose and thoughtful procession was to be directed at _him_ of all people, well that was something for his own mind to know and only his mind).

He'd been feeling a little optimistic. The day had started fairly well— better than it had in the years long passed since Kawarama's death. He'd even managed to get a little rest, the gift from the day before having actually been a comfort (he may or may not have kept it beside him while he slept, cuddling close the way he did when he used to share his bed with his brothers— eager for the reassurance of having them there, wanting nothing more than for them to know that he did love them the way they all loved so openly, just that he wasn't nearly as good at showing it), his heart still ached and head pounded from the previously spent sleepless nights that always plagued him around these times of year.

It seemed his okay day was to come to an end, his admirer too much a bastard to leave good things well alone. Or at least do things with some sense of propriety, _normalcy_. It wouldn't be too far-fetched to believe that the one person supposedly attracted to him was certifiably insane. What else would have spurred on this bout of inanity? 

Tobirama sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. With quick swipes of his kunai the wire around Sarutobi Hiruzen fell loosely to the ground, the young boy all but crumpling down from the wooden post, arms windmilling frantically and, unfortunately, uselessly. The boy shielded the small wooden box strapped to his head, planting face first into the ground as a result.

"Owwwww." Saru sat up, one hand still on the package, the other rubbing at his face with a pout. His eyes landed on Tobirama.

"Sensei! Sensei! The shinobi that tied me up wanted me to give this to you!" Saru sprung up, nimble fingers undoing the gift atop his head and shoving the package into Tobirama's arms, grinning excitedly. "Open it, open it!"

Koharu frowned. "You're not supposed to watch people open their presents Hiruzen. It's rude." But she eyed the box curiously, darting glances at her Sensei and back to the box.

"No, we have training to do. Did you happen to recognize the shinobi?"

"Nope! He was using a henge." Kagami shrugged, looking all too cheerful.

Tobirama's eye twitched. "And how exactly do you know that?"

"He told us! Also, my sharingan saw right through it."

"Then you know who it is."

"Nope! They'd kill me if I told you so no I know nothing. Nobody. Who even is a person?"

"Kagami."

"What is a person? _How_ is a person?"

"Kagami."

"Where is a person? Where are we? Where is where? I don't know!"

"Idiot! Shut up!" Danzo snapped.

"Danzoooooooooooo." Kagami whined, flinging his arms around the other boy. "You're so mean to me. Oh! What did you get me for Christmas?"

The brunette blushed fiercely, voice cracking, much to Kagami's not-so-discreet delight. "W-who said I got _you_ anything? Idiot Uchiha! I thought we wanted to see what Sensei got!"

And just like that, six pairs of eyes focused back on him. 

"No."

Six pairs of hands clasped together pleadingly.

"Absolutely not."

And there were the puppy eyes and pouts. "Pleeeeaaaassse Sensei!"

Tobirama huffed. He was always too weak to these things. It was no wonder Anija always managed to squirrel off his work onto Tobirama's lap. He paused. Maybe his brother wasn't so much an idiot as he thought. That manipulative pile of foliage! Hashirama probably learned it from their father's knee. Their progenitor always knew how to get what he wanted from Tobirama. Butsuma wanted Tobirama to follow Anija? He'd stoke the flames of Tobirama's fear of the Uchiha. He wanted Tobirama to stop crying and act as a proper shinobi? He'd train him and train him until Tobirama was too tired to cry. Tobirama didn't want to sleep? Butsuma would wrap him in his arms and call upon his bear summons, tucking himself and Tobirama into the soft fur until he was drowsy from the warmth. And the worst of all, when he wanted Tobirama to eat? He'd have Kawarama and Itama or the younger children of the clan (when his brothers had passed) come wheedle him incessantly into eating, round-eyed and sad with Butsuma's threat of refusing to let Tobirama teach or experiment. The Senju elder always stared him down with stern looks that couldn't even hide how untrue his threats were. And now his brother was the same! How could Tobirama have missed it? Adjustments needed to be made, the ruse was up. He would no longer stand for such abuse of his weak will.

"Sensei! Come on!" Homura urged, pushing his glasses up. "We're wasting our training time."

Sighing again, Tobirama plucked the lid off the box, the polished wood smooth to the touch. The embellishment was craftily made, the box itself sturdy and durable while maintains a surprisingly light weight considering its size...much like most Uchiha-made products. That clan in particular favored things of both elegance and practicality, prideful in every aspect they could wring into perfection. Not to mention that by ensuring their products were light, they reduced their own burdens and thus limited the obstacle posed by having to travel while transporting something, something that ultimately worked considerably in their benefit, favoring and assisting the speed and agility the clan was renowned for. 

But what Uchiha looked upon him and did not see the White Demon? Did not see the blood of their loved ones on his hands and blade? They were still wary around him, fearful and hateful of the prejudice they believed he had against them. 

The only few...Well, he and Hikaku were reasonably close. Perhaps..? But Hikaku wouldn't tie a child to a post or tie a present _onto_ someone. It was a level of immaturity and unnecessary action that didn't speak to the man's character. Tobirama was almost certain he couldn't name a single person so crass, except Izuna. While the two had resolved the residual enmity left over from the war, even befriending one another with the same ease as their elder brothers, they were by no means, and most definitely not looking to be, romantically involved. Unless Izuna changed his mind, which maybe could make sense. While the other man was courting Nara Shiori, the couple together were a flirtatious menace— Tobirama wasn't even sure if they were joking about their attraction to him anymore. He wasn't sure they knew whether or not they were joking anymore. But those type of relationships weren't even _legal_.

The only other Uchiha that could withstand Tobirama was Uchiha Madara and though they were getting along better, their relationship was nothing like that of the one the black-haired man shared with Hashirama. Those idiots had always been so close and yet they didn't even seem to realize the depth of their feelings for one another— nor the way they seemed to exist in their own little world (Tobirama had felt so foolish when he himself had not realized the connection between his brother and the older Uchiha, had quite nearly slapped himself just to rid himself of the stupidity that had befallen him. It had taken him too long, too caught up in the way his palms got sweaty and his blood threatened to color his cheeks whenever Madara was around, too caught up in revisiting the hours they spent conversing from work to any other topic that flit by— the bashful smiles and wicked grins, surprised laughs that left him breathless, and quiet sympathy that only aimed to strengthen him, put him back together in his weaker moments— to notice that the Uchiha only had eyes for Anija. Whatever little thing they had had was everything he didn't know he wanted and now wanted with a desperation he dare not show a soul— shoved aside where no one but he would know, much like the kusarigama he'd gotten the older man as a courting gift months ago. He had been so ready to present it, he hadn't even noticed when Madara began ignoring and avoiding him. Hadn't noticed when the two men began clamming up at the sight of him. Not until he'd seen them locked tight in an embrace a few weeks ago, the two of them springing apart as quickly as the pieces of his hollowed heart. A part of him still hoped that maybe, just maybe, his feelings could be returned, that someone noticed him for something more than the warrior, the weapon he'd been forged into. That Madara would see him. But no one saw the moon when the sun was out. If he were a more pathetic man, he might have drowned himself in his own jutsu for the fairy tales he let his mind slip into). None of the Uchihas that could tolerate him could not, in good sense, be the one presenting him with these gifts.

Perhaps the Uchiha have commoditized their products? It would serve an excellent deterrent to lead him astray on who his "admirer" may be by showing no preference to a single clan.

He shook his head, bringing his focus back. Seated on a cloth napkin were two dark chocolates, one turtle shaped, the other molded like some type of bird. A note was pasted to the underside of the lid.

_The original:_  
_On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree_

_Our version? :_  
_On the second day of Christmas your admirer gave to thee two dark chocolates and a tiny leopard baby_

_I have been told honesty is important for our new peace as well as in budding relationships so for the sake of this mentality, it must be disclosed that I do not know what turtle doves are. Regardless, I find the separate entities to reflect well on what I would seek if you allowed me to court you. Much as the tortoise met his success through determination, sought it in time to reap the end benefits, I wish our relationship to be an equally successful journey where there is no true end, a success in every moment, every cherished memory spent together. The dove symbolizes the altitudes my heart soars toward, stays within, when I am with you._

Bewilderment wasn't an accurate enough word to describe how Tobirama felt. The flowery words in no way matched the uncouth actions and yet it was to be believed to be the same one shinobi? Was it possibly the work of a team?

"Kagami—"

"Nothing!" The boy shrieked, hands flapping. "I know no—"

Danzo slapped his hand over Kagami's mouth, wrapping his other arm around the Uchiha to stop his impassioned flailing. "Sensei please. I'm positive you will figure it out soon. Please, spare our hearing and brain cells. _Please_ Sensei."

Tobirama rubbed his forehead. Whoever was pranking him will have hell to pay once he gets his hands on them.

————————————————

A Modern Mix in the West:

When Tobirama settled himself into his car, he always dedicated a solid minute to finding music that would appease him for whatever length of a drive he was to make. Whether he needed something that he could enjoy with his hearing aids turned on, bass heavy enough to feel in his bones and sway his heart to a beat that sung through his veins, or if he wanted to actually hear the music, he chose that when he was comfortably sitting in the driver's seat. Not a moment before. It was a _routine_. Going out? Choose music. Coming in and staying? Turn the damn radio _off_.

So it was needless to say he was a little startled and very much annoyed when music started immediately playing. Tobirama slammed his hand on the power, shutting it off quickly and pressing his hands over his ears. His hearing aids volume was turned higher than usual, him having needed to hear and decipher the raspy voice of a sick Touka over the phone, another accursed thing in and of itself. Who the fuck _dared—_ There was a note taped to the dashboard.

 _Merry Christmas Day 2 Senju. I hope you like the music_ — _there are two CDs, one you can feel and the other you can listen to. Whatever your mood._ _For precaution's sake, if your radio was left on, I'll apologize from now lest you give me hell about it later. I probably left in a hassle so no one would catch me in your car_.

_10 days to go, Einstein._

Pushing himself out of his car, Tobirama examined the door carefully. Not a single mark revealing it had been broken into, meaning the key to his vehicle was _willingly_ given to someone. Knowing his brothers, that could be anyone. Hell, knowing _his parents_ , it could almost be anyone— weirdos as they were in their near obsession in their sons' love lives. Somehow, as his luck would of course have it, the list of potential unsubs has only grown bigger despite the clues.

He scrubbed a hand down his face. How much more baffling and ridiculous was this going to get? Tobirama needed to find a way to let his stalker down gently and fast— he really didn't want to be killed and kept as some sort of sex doll or something after all— but he knew who he wanted to pursue a relationship with, planned on asking them out quite soon even— and didn't want to run the risk of breaking someone else's heart after they'd gone to such lengths to put this mess together. 

Too bad the music was really good. Hopefully the man he had his eyes on was just as attentive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because even when I try for cute and fluffy, I drop in some angst somewhere. 
> 
> Can you tell I'm a sucker for good!Butsuma? I mean, he tries, you know. I always felt that rather than abusive as he's usually depicted, he's just a human whose trying (maybe a little poorly, but the effort is somewhere), whose been molded by his time and circumstance to person that could be hard to understand outside of it. Also, the think the whole abuse thing tends to come from him hitting Hashirama on Kawarama's funeral, which while wrong, I don't think physical discipline is all that uncommon in more Eastern cultures and normalizes the behavior. 
> 
> Just going to throw this out there: weird and almost completely unrelated headcanon-- Kagami and Danzo were totally a thing and when Kagami died, Danzo lost it. Kagami harbored a little ill will towards his clan because he saw the conflict between them and others, particularly the Senju, and didn't understand why they weren't trying harder to belong to the village rather than be an almost separate entity. His attachment to Tobirama may have influenced that though not because Tobi encouraged the hate, rather Kagami didn't understand why the Uchiha hated his beloved sensei so much when he did as everyone else did during the war: fight and kill. His love became protectiveness which became anger when anyone dared to slander Tobirama and this ultimately culminated more negative feelings towards the Uchiha clan. Danzo harbored it all, though with a crazed viciousness Kagami didn't have (for all his anger to his clan, he still loved and cared for them deeply. He just wanted them to be more village-oriented and less anti-Tobirama) which convinced him the Uchiha Massacre was somehow reasonable because "if you can't stand for the village, then you will fall before the village". 
> 
> Sooo what do you guys think? Any corrections or questions? Things that need to be fixed or clarified?


	3. Japanese Hens??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for profanity once more and OC characters. 
> 
> Also, in the modern version Tobirama is deaf. However, I did his dialogue in bolded italics and wrote it as it would be if he wasn't using the sentence structure of sign language as that would be rather confusing for anyone without experience sign language.
> 
> Furthermore, for some reason, I see the Senju with Butsuma being Japanese and their mom being Hispanic/Latina. Don't ask, I don't know why. It just happened.

Tobirama blinked. Looked both ways down the street and saw only confusion. No one hiding, no one even looking entertained and yet....He stepped back into his house and closed the door. Blinked again, eyes shut longer this time. Opened the door again.

They were still there.

Three hens were huddled on his porch, bows wrapped around their necks and a single scroll strapped to one of their legs. They looked up at him curiously, the tilt of their heads oddly familiar.

They had no significant chakra signature, so they couldn't be someone's summons. One began pecking at his porch step. Another waddled nearer, head peeking through his door. Tobirama gently shooed it back out.

He crossed his arms, only three days in and already long-suffering. "I suppose those are for me."

A chicken clucked.

"You are reasonably trained. I don't suppose you can tell me who sent you."

Another flapped its wings. Speaking to chickens—kami, Tobirama _was_ losing his mind. He sighed, squatting down, hands reaching towards the closest one who inched closer, sticking its leg out a bit. Suddenly, he paused. The air felt heavy with chakra, with a very distinct killing intent. _Oh no._

"HASHIRAMAAA!"

"I'M SORRYYY!! I WAS JUST TRYING TO HELP!!"

Villagers threw themselves to the side in desperation, their baskets and other wares clattering to the ground just as Hashirama rounded the corner wailing hysterically, Hokage robes whipping behind him like a boat sail in a storm.

"QUIT RUNNING AND LET ME KILL YOU, YOU FUNGUS BASTARD!"

Tobirama bristled. For a man with a considerable amount of skill in diplomacy— a rather healthy mix of respectful and cleverness with a tad bit ruthlessness that could be overlooked when paired with Hashirama's overly agreeable personality— the Uchiha was grossly unconcerned by propriety. Even now, even after all the experience the villagers had when dealing with the two founders, Tobirama could feel their surprise as the way Madara addressed Hashirama. How was anyone to respect Anija as he deserved if they kept letting Madara be so disrespectful?

"NO!" Hashirama shrieked, ducking a katon only to trip over his own foot and go sprawling face down into mud mere meters from Tobirama's fence. One of the neighbor's pigs wondered closer, shoving its nose into Hashirama's, mouth clamping onto brown strands and chewing eagerly.

"No! Bad Buta! Leave Hokage-sama alone!" His neighbor cried, stumbling forwards to try and urge the pig away. Hashirama pushed himself to his knees, or at least tried to, only to fall back on his face from where the pig held his hair in a firm bite, splattering even more mud everywhere. Trying again, he reached up and wrapped his arms around the pig first, rolling over and holding the animal like a shield. Cowering.

An acute sense of despair struck Tobirama, almost making him want to slump over in the same pouty neurosis his brother was famed for. How could anyone respect his Anija when the man acted like that?

Madara snarled, refocused after having taken a pause to help the villagers regather their things. Waving them further away, he took a running leap, shooting upwards into the air in an unnecessarily high bound that had everyone tilting their heads almost all the way back to stare. Just when he seemed but a speck in the sky, the man hurtled back downwards, gunbai raised over his head with deadly intent. Oh for the love of—

The force of the wind that Madara would generate could obliterate the houses in the vicinity easily. He should _know_ that. How many times had he blown through literal forests in his wake on the battlefield? God has forsaken Tobirama. What had he done so wrong that it was his luck to be surrounded by such _idiots?_ Tobirama flung himself off his porch, darting across to stand behind his brother. Flying through his hand seals, a large wall of water sprung up around him just as Madara brought his gunbai down. Wood and vines sprouted around Hashirama, the wood forming a half spherical structure over the man and pig still curled up in the puddle, other walls stretching up and around to reinforce Tobirama's water barrier, the vines reaching and winding around Madara until the Uchiha was trussed up like a turkey.

A moment later and Madara was burning right through it, landing atop the wood hovering above Hashirama, slamming his fist through it and shattering the solid wood as if it were a thin bark. The other wooden walls sunk back into the ground, Tobirama's water shield dissipating with it as Hashirama backpedaled, crawling back desperately. Madara kept pace with him, a panther prowling after prey, hair frizzing out ominously.

"TOBIIIIII!!" Hashirama cried out pleadingly, neck probably hurting from looking between his brother and friend so much. "Brother, save me!"

Madara's gaze lost its fury, snapping up to meet Tobirama's in panic. Color flushed the Uchiha's normally pale face, seeping down to meet the collar of his robes in a bright, ruddy hue. "Chickens!" he spluttered, pointing.

"What?"

"Oh! There are chickens! Why do you have chickens in your house, Tobirama-san?" Some man from the Might Clan asked, bushy brows and hairline blending together.

_"What?!"_

Tobirama spun around. Sure enough, the chickens had swarmed his home, feathers fluttering in the air behind them.

"Oh were they not supposed to be there? Don't worry, Tobirama-san! I'll help you catch them. Come on children! You do not need to go to the training grounds to practice your shinobi skills! Ninja training can happen anywhere! Let us do the youthful thing, we'll catch them with our bare hands! The last one to catch one will do a thousand push-ups!"

"Yes Sensei!" The two children beside Bushy Brows yelled.

"No! Wait—," Tobirama protested, but he spoke too late. The man and children rushed into his home, green tracksuits blurring as they gave chase to the frantic fowls. "Stop!"

Did _no one_ have a working brain? They could use a jutsu to freeze the birds in place. Anija could use his Mokuton to form a crate around them. There were so many more efficient ways to catch the damn things than to rampage his house. Loud crashing echoed out his door, clucking and squawks hitting a crescendo. His eye twitched.

"Tobi?" Hashirama pushed the mud from his eyes.

Tobirama ignored him, storming towards his house, chakra sparking dangerously. He should've let Madara destroy that man's house.

"Wait, wait, wait! Otouto! I'll get them!" Hashirama sped past him. "Kai! You and your students need to stop!"

"We've almost caught them Hokage-sama!"

"No—"

A table flew through the window.

Tobirama was through the door in seconds. Inside was chaos. Feathers, broken furniture, mud and sand littered his pristine floor. Ruined papers floated in the air and laid beneath dirty feet. Important papers. _He_ was going to destroy that man's house, right after he destroyed the man himself.

Tobirama slammed his hand against the wall. "ENOUGH! _Get out!"_

The children and man froze. Even the chickens froze, one landing atop one of the kid's head.

Bushy Brow spoke up. _"_ But Tobirama-san—"

A water dragon coiled up behind him, head posed to strike. "NOW!"

Blanching, the trio, his brother, and chickens filed outside quietly, heads bowed under Tobirama's glare. "Anija, the scrolls. Children, go home."

Once the children had left and his brother had untied the gifts and placed them in Tobirama's hands, he ordered the three men to stand side by side.

"You three will put my house exactly as it was." He growled.

"But I—" Madara began.

"Thought it was a good idea to treat the fucking village as a battlefield! As if you were a senseless rookie rather than the second greatest shinobi in Fire Country! I expected better from our leaders and the teacher to our future shinobi! If you cannot act accordingly, you _will_ fix your mistakes until you can! So either you clean your mess or I'll—" Tobirama let his chakra speak for him, the ground cracking beneath his feet like a spider web. "I expect you two in the office no later than noon. That's three hours from now. If it's not done by then—" he had no words to say, too angry to come up with anything other than to just let the fissures stretch outwards, just shy of touching the other three in a clear threat.

The men all but ran inside, Tobirama grabbing his brother mid-stride. "Anija wait!"

One suiton jutsu ("how do you expect to clean when you are dragging mud everywhere, idiot?!") and a wail later, they were quickly making a decent start to putting things back in order. Tobirama huffed. There was a lot of work to be done, the first: slaughter his "admirer" and tie their corpse to his fence as an example.

Or maybe not. His admirer was obviously well-read with significant access or power. There was no other way they could've gifted Tobirama something like this. In his hands were three scrolls that even he hadn't read before, hadn't even known _existed_ outside of the private clan archives. Each detailed one of the three main dojutsus. It was a feat in itself to obtain any verbal information of the Byakugon and the Sharingan (specifically the Mangekyo) without speaking directly to a rare, loose-tongue clan member, and to think, here on his very desk, were details of each in length. How long had he been searching, been hoping that someone would share whatever information was known about the jutsus no one seemed to know enough about? How long had he had to study from afar, waiting until battle to witness them in action and try to take notes while fighting for his life? And now....The parchment pooled onto the floor, much too long to fit on his desk completely, paper decorated with charts and graphs and a traceable history lineage. Case studies, personal experiences, all of it, all the information he would have included in his own research and experiments were clearly laid out, striking the most beautiful balance of being both concise and in-depth. And the third, sweet kami above, the third was about the _Rinnegan_. That particular dojutsu wasn't even known as anything more than a rumor and yet...! 

He opened the note:

_On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me_   
_three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_On the third day of Christmas your admirer gave to thee_   
_Three eyes seeing, two dark chocolates, and a tiny leopard baby_

_There's more to this gift than just appealing to your interests. With or without dojutsu, with or without sight itself, I would see the goodness, the kindness, the brilliance that travels through your veins for it shines brighter than your chakra signature and can be felt even by non-shinobi. Distance does nothing to dull you— it only makes one fonder and more wanting to be near._

Whoever his admirer was, they were truly after his own heart. Tobirama's mind went to a fiery chakra that burned like katon and lively eyes, blunt honesty and open kindness. Then remembered brown hair and kind eyes that loved the same person, kind eyes that would fill with hurt and Tobirama felt sick. All he could do was hope it wasn't a prank. Maybe then he could get over a bridge that was never meant to be and build one that could be.

————————————————

A Modern Mix in the West:

His admirer was a creep. The next present was literally on the edge of his bed where he'd laid out his outfit for the day the night before. _Late_ last night. And it was early morning. They must have snuck in while he was sleeping to put it there and he hadn't even noticed.

Tobirama was almost freaked out now. First the doorstep, then inside his car, and now in his room? What was next? Would his admirer put the next gift on him?! He shuddered. He'd asked his brothers and parents and none of them, not even his dad (and the man was so overprotective of Tobirama he bought him mace and a taser on top of self-defense courses) would tell him who they were conspiring with.

He stomped out his room, package clutched tight in his arms. He could probably get the answer from Itama if he tried hard enough. Who was the girl he liked? Oh yeah. Mariana. Bet she would love to hear about the time Itama bandaged a cooked fish and put it back in the water to "save" it before deciding he liked salmon too much and ate it instead.

Tobirama paused. He could see the light of the television flickering against the walls, the sound of some horribly cheesy Christmas romance playing in the background of Hashirama's sobbing. Actually...Mito still didn't know that Hashirama never ate the lunch she packed him, that he had somehow swindled Madara into bringing food for him everyday instead (not that Tobirama blamed him, his friend was a horrid cook and, engagement or not, did not change that fact). Yes, that might work.

" _Brother."_

"No Tobi, I'm n-not t-telling you-u." His brother wipes the tears from his face, pausing his movie. "Really, you glaring at me isn't gonna work this time."

Oh? Well then—

_**"Does Mito like when Madara cooks for you?"** _

Hashirama paled, gasping dramatically. "You wouldn't!"

Tobirama arched a brow.

"Tobi, come on! That's not fair! Your admirer really wants to surprise you. You can't ruin it like that!"

The other eyebrow rose to join the first.

"You'll like them! Would I ever lead you wrong? Wait, no, don't answer that. We all make mistakes. Just-just trust me. Please?" Hashirama clasped his hands, lips pouting ridiculously.

Tobirama rubbed his face. Might as well bite the bullet. Carefully, he unwrapped the paper, revealing a soft, blue and white tie dye shirt. An edge of black caught his eye and Tobirama unfolded it.

The dye design was simultaneously intricate but simple enough to suit Tobirama's taste. Across the chest was an image: two hands beneath a hovering earth, the globe surrounded by various religious symbols. The wrists on the hands bore an anchor and heart each, the shapes of which matched the shirt rather than the black of the rest of the image.

Tobirama paused. He knew this image. He _drew_ this image _. Months ago._ For his cousin Touka. Who moved. _Months ago._ To another _country._

What the hell was going on?

Hashirama squealed, bouncing up and down slightly. "Aww that's a really nice shirt! And it's even in your favorite color! Look how observant they are!"

Tobirama glowered, hand clenching around the note taped to the shirt tag until his brother deflated back into his seat. Smoothing it out, Tobirama moved closer to the light. Maybe the letter would give more clues.

_¡Hola, hola!_

_Recognize the picture, Tobira? I'd hope so. I'd hate for your memory and mental prowess to match the color of your hair. Three hens: faith, hope, love. I have faith you'll figure this shit out, hope that you return these damn feelings so I don't need to shoot myself into outer space, and love that as much as you act like you hate the world, you're the biggest god damn hippie I have ever met besides your acorn-brained brother._ _By the way, you are a ridiculously heavy sleeper. You had your hearing aids in and on! How did you_ _ not _ _hear me? You should worried. You should be_ _ scared _ _. What if I was a psycho? What if I wanted to keep your body as some sort of sex puppet? You wouldn't even notice until it was too late! I'm disappointed Senju. Really._

 _¡Hasta luego, princesa!_ _:P_  
 _Quieres nueve días_

_P.S. Obviously Spanish isn't a language I speak but I think you could use the hint. Even geniuses could be led astray apparently._

No Spanish, has access to his _house_ and cousin (who hates even more people to Tobirama, which more than says something), and has no problem being an asshole, even in a letter. Uchiha Izuna was looking more and more like a reasonable candidate.

Oh. Gross. Why couldn't it be the more attractive brother? Hadn't he been obvious enough with his pining? You would think pulling the guy to dance with you in a fountain, while wearing a _white_ shirt would give him some kind of clue but alas, Tobirama was doomed to being unlucky. 

Maybe he could learn a thing from his admirer. Surely even Madara would notice if Tobirama were sitting on his bed with a bow on his head. Surely.

Hopefully Izuna won't take offense. If he does, Tobirama will just have to knock the sense right back into him ("You are _straight_ , Izuna. You can barely take care of your own dick, leave mine out of this.") or ship him to Touka. No biggie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sign language part, in American sign language (if I understood it right) it could be written as For You-Happen-Madara-Cook-Mito-Like with body positioning to show the two different people in discussion as well-- dominant to non-dominant, open palm toward Hashirama to say For You then signs for Happen-Madara (finger spell or sign if he has one, which I would say Tobi would give him one)-Cook, move to non-dominant side, and eyebrows raised to show it is a yes/no question, Mito (finger spell/sign if Tobi gave her one-- I'd say he did) -Like.
> 
> Not sure if that makes sense or is fully correct, but that's how I think it would go. I still need to practice my sign language more.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter was an absolute doozy to write and I'm not pleased with it but I told myself I would get through this lighter-hearted fic while I try wracking my brain to write my more serious ones. Let me know what you guys think though, please! I'll try to make the next chapter better but, knowing me, this might just turn into a bit of a hot mess.


	4. Birds Come Calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tobirama has some adult thoughts and warning for profanity as per usual

Tobirama was more than a little nervous, not that he would ever admit or show it, but the near demolition of his house wasn't quite forgiven and today was sure to have him receiving yet another gift. It could only get worse. He had to wonder, did his admirer know not to give gifts in four? Tobirama was perhaps a man of science first and foremost but even he was hesitant to test fate and whatever else supernatural being may or may not exist (and, if not some otherworldly force, then it would only stand to reason it was a particularly intelligent or insane shinobi behind all these unusual circumstances. He himself had brought back the dead, hadn't he? People hadn't even thought it possible, hadn't dared to think about, let alone try, but jutsu _works_. To a reasonable extent. He believed there was still something missing to make it perfect but that was for another time. The point was, what else could be possible if one was clever enough?).

That brought him back to his admirer. Tobirama had thought more about it last night, once the euphoria and excitement wore off—somewhere after the third time he'd perused the scrolls and had blackmailed (read: encouraged. He absolutely did not threaten to have his summons chase chickens in Madara's and Izuna's pristine home under the knowledge that the man's own perfectionism and Izuna's irritated fury would have them tanking out their hair if their home was less than spotless. He didn't) Madara into yet another, considerably more extensive, demonstration of his mangekyo. The man was even courteous enough to hint at a source with even more information, a tablet of sorts, that helped the user unlock powers unseen by anyone in centuries but it was hidden away, protected to keep people from falling onto the unsavory path they would have to take in the pursuit of such power despite it not yet being fully understood or deciphered. Still, the only reassurance Tobirama could accept after that disclosure was the verification that Hashirama knew of it as well and was prepared, if necessary, to rid the threat before it became too large. It would only take a shinobi with just enough time on their hands to surrender the village and all its occupants to danger.

That being said, the gifts themselves seemed to have no rhyme or reason, other than that the shinobi thought it would please Tobirama. Unless someone thought Tobirama could figure out the tablet and let it fall into the wrong hands, a preposterous idea even in passing, there had been no reason to jump from chocolates to dojutsu. What would today bring? Grilled fish? Sealing scrolls? That bastard civilian's head on a pike? Actually, that might just work perfectly— at this point, his was near-certain he would need a sacrifice for the Edo Tensei to restore the undead to a more similar prowess as they'd exuded in life rather than a mere shadow of their strength. And Tobirama couldn't be blamed if _he_ didn't kill the man. He can't help what he's gifted, after all.

Though maybe they would skip today altogether. There were many much more superstitious than Tobirama and even he knew it would seem ill-fitting to gift an object of your affection something in four. Even _Hashirama_ knew and abided by the practice when no other tradition, propriety, or custom had ever stopped the will of his way. But it was already late afternoon and there hadn't been a single circumstance of mayhem: no students strung up, no animals flocking about his house. Nothing.

He told himself the pang in his chest was relief, that he didn't care for the attention anyhow. It wasn't like he was unfamiliar with people losing their interests in him. Most had no interest at all unless they were to face him in battle. He was fine. Things were back to normal.

"Oi Senju!" Izuna stuck his head through the open doorway. "I want sushi."

"You don't like sushi," Tobirama pointed out, pulling his gaze from his paperwork to eye his friend suspiciously.

Leaning against the wall, Izuna threw his hand up against his forehead dramatically. "I know but alas my dear friend is being grumpy. More so than usual. It is my duty to alleviate his pain."

"I'm not being grumpy." Tobirama grumbled. He wasn't. So what if this was the first time he was the recipient of someone's supposed affections? That, after so many years, he wasn't being considered an unlucky one? He wasn't grumpy. It wasn't practical to be.

Izuna nodded slowly. "Right. And I'm not an Uchiha. Come along now, do you want sushi or not, winter rabbit?"

"Don't call me that!" He still stood up though. If not an...advancement in his experiment, he could be satisfied with some fresh fish.

"But rabbi— AH!" 

"I can't believe you pulled me into the ground," Izuna whined, slumping over the table with a tearful pout. "Now my clothes are all dusty and nii-san's going to throw me in the koi pond and the fish are going to _nibble_ at me— and I hate being nibbled!— instead of just letting me walk in the damn house. You know how much he hates getting dust anywhere! He hardly even gets dirty while in battle, Tobi!"

"I am drowning in my repent."

"You liar. Hashirama's right, you're mean. I can't believe _you're_ my best friend."

Tobirama put his wasabi on Izuna's plate and pulled the soy sauce closer. "As Mito would likely say, 'Believe it'."

"What is with the Uzumaki and saying that? Literally no one else says that."

"I quite honestly do not know. No one does anything like the Uzumaki, or the Uchiha, for that matter. They say 'Believe it', the Uchiha try to destroy everything...It's a quirk of dramatic people. You cannot seem to act like normal people, even if your life depended on it."

"Okay, _ouch_. I bring you out to get sushi and you insult me? Have you no sense of propriety?"

"As I recall, earlier you said you were not an Uchiha."

"Oh you crafty bastard. If you were a woman, I would bed you."

"How are those two thoughts relatable?" Tobirama snorted.

"Because us Uchiha don't just like to destroy things. We like being destroyed too."

"....that sounds perverse. Why does that sound perverse?"

Izuna leaned forward, waggling his eyebrows lasciviously. "Why do you think?"

Tobirama laughed. "I have met your brother Izuna. I've met your entire clan. I am almost certain it is a 'you-thing' rather than a trait of all Uchihas."

"Oh you just haven't seen that side of Nii-san yet. He's just as bad, if not worse, than me. He's just quieter about it." Izuna scoffed, shuddering. "And a lot more enthusiastic. Thank Kami for privacy sealing."

The thought came unbidden, dragging the memory of the last time Tobirama had gone to the public baths with it. Madara, skin just barely flushed, unashamed and filthily seductive, his dark grin dripping with intent, like the drops of water trailing down smooth flesh. His voice pitched so low it rumbled through his chest until Tobirama could feel it reverberate beneath his own skin, feel it more than his own voice. Ink colored hair hanging from above him, around him, tickling, teasing, shrouding them in until Madara was the only thing Tobirama could focus on. Broad shoulders and firm muscles on display, strong enough to level whole landscapes yet gentle and nimble. Calloused hands brushing on skin like a whisper, alighting nerves until he ached with helpless passion and—

And Tobirama should not be thinking of that. Not here, not now, not _ever. Especially_ Izuna. Kami, he needed to stop spending time with the other man. He'd become a _pervert_.

"Ah, you okay there, Tobi? You're looking a little flushed," Izuna grinned wickedly. "Who would've thought? The uptight Senju's got it bad for— oh gross! Tobi no! That's my _brother_!" The look of horror Izuna had affected was downplayed by the mischievous glint in his eyes.

"You know, nii-san would be quite pleased," he drawled.

"With being an only child? Lovely. I sharpened my katana this morning."

"E-excuse me, S-Senju-san?" The restaurant owner, a portly man with simple, scrunched features stood trembling behind him. "T-this came in f-for you."

He moved to give Tobirama a small box, his hand trembling so violently the box slipped from his fingers. Tobirama snatched it from the air, absently nodding in thanks. It was a small, simple package wrapped in a lilac cloth, just big enough to fit his palm.

Gift number four? His heart fluttered hopefully as he traced the edge.

"Open it," Izuna stage-whispered.

Nothing about it suggested a trap. Still. Tobirama unsealed the ink and brush he made a point of carrying around, and with quick, efficient strokes, he marked the table with a protective seal, placing the package in the center as he'd done with the previous gift. Tobirama tapped beside his eye, watching as Izuna activated his sharingan before unwrapping the gift, both of their breaths catching in surprise as the paper fell away.

Inside, hooked on a soft cloth, was a silver chain and pendant. In fine detailing, a dragon was perched atop a ring shape, its tail laying on one side of the circle and curling across the center, the other side studded with seven colored gems— red, blue, brown, green, yellow, black, and clear.

"Are those _diamonds_?" Izuna gasped.

"I-I believe so. I haven't much experience with precious stones except for one mission regarding mines but I have no reason to believe they are anything else," Tobirama rambled weakly, nail tapping against a stone.

"Holy shit. What does the note say?"

Tobirama carefully set the necklace down, opening the note that had been with it.

_On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me_   
_four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_On the fourth day of Christmas your admirer gave to thee_   
_Four dragon stones, three eyes seeing, two dark chocolates, and a tiny leopard baby_

_I know it is more than four but the rhyme_ _only works so well. I hope you do not take offense to the gift, I know it is not custom to be accepting of something so expensive but, as the rhyme goes, the price goes as the days go though tomorrow I shall gift you the most priceless thing I can as of now. Please accept it, if not as an admirer alone, but as a future courter. It would do me a great dishonor to have your rejection without you even knowing who I am._

 _This gift symbolizes your ability in all elemental releases and yin yang release, representative of your skill, tenacity, knowledge, and strength_ — _unparalleled as it is in all of Fire Country, it was these four traits that first brought my attention to you._ _After that, it seemed my attention could never leave._

_I hope for the honor of your acceptance in more than the opening of these gifts and, if I cannot, I hope for the honor of your kindness if you find me lacking._

"Kai."

"Tobi, it's not a genjutsu."

"Have I been afflicted with some sort of drug? A hallucination or illness?"

"Uhh no? Is this that poor self-esteem thing Hashirama was talking about?"

"Who would—why?" For the first time in his life, Tobirama couldn't find the words he wanted to say. 

"Why not?" Izuna shrugged, smiling kindly. "If someone can like me, rampaging and bratty as I am, why not you T?"

"I-"

(I'm a ghost, a demon. I am cold and cruel, unable to make conversation and understand people. No one enjoys being around me, no one has anything to say about me other than my viciousness, my unkindness, my unnatural appearance. So why would this person like me? What do they see that no one else in the world does?)

"I mean, you're no better than me, after all." (Meaning: We're just the same. If I can be loved, you can too.)

And though Izuna cackled, red-faced and childish in his mirth, he reached out to grip Tobirama's hand reassuringly.

Tobirama wanted desperately for it to be true.

————————————————

A Modern Mix in the West:

Tobirama was going to kiss his admirer, even if it was Izuna.

Okay, maybe not. He hadn't lost his mind yet. But damn, he liked this new gift. Honestly speaking, he liked all of them— they'd all been thoughtful and to his liking, his admirer clearly having taken much patience and effort into each present that Tobirama himself would not spare for most people— but this? This had been on his secret mental Christmas wish list for literal years.

And he knew, of course he did, that it was childish and rather unexpected from him but he couldn't help it! This was his childhood! He'd loved the show since it came out, to the point he cosplayed almost every one of the characters, even Azula and Katara, and he hadn't even _liked_ them very much as characters. 

_This was a tricky one Senju_ — _instead of four separate things, I figured the complete collection of Avatar: the Last Airbender would suffice. There are four parts, after all. I'll be honest, while I thought you'd love this gift_ — _you dressed as Ty Lee for fuck's sake that one Halloween (out of curiosity, do you still have that costume?)_ — _I did have get advice from who would usually seem a great source that you would not care for it. If that's true and I am actually wrong, this is the one gift that is coming with a gift receipt for you to exchange it for something you do like. But I bet I'm not, am I? You made me watch it with you one too many times for you to not like this show, unless you just wanted to hurt yourself. Which okay, you do you, I guess? Here's to hurting yourself more? I don't know._

_Figured it out yet, bunny? You only have eight days left._

Tobirama reread the letter twice. He made quite a few people watch Avatar with him, most specifically his parents but they most definitely were out of the question. It had to be an Uchiha though. Those were the only people he'd been so close to, especially as young as he was during that phase, having known them practically from birth due to the friendship between their parents. Izuna also really liked the show but between skateboarding and soccer, he barely had time to binge the show with Tobirama. They preferred spending whatever scarce time they had together playing video games or blowing up crap in the shed in the backyard. Not to mention their younger brothers were always around then and would claim the television until the Uchihas left. But there was one of them he'd watched it all the time with. Tobirama wracked his brain. Who would indulge him? ...Madara? Had it been Madara he made watch the show with him?

It seemed fitting. By then, Hashirama was already having girl issues that Tobirama, at ten years old to Hashirama's fifteen, did not care about. Which meant that Hashirama was much too busy moping over his broken heart of the week to spend extended periods of time with Tobirama without bursting into noisy tears and disrupting everything. And by then, it was more than fine. By then? Tobirama had been certain there was not a single person in the world as cool as Madara, and he didn't even need an excuse to drag the older boy into everything he possibly could. Madara just let him.

It made sense though. Madara and Hashirama hadn't been particularly close at the time— Madara being far more reserved, steady on a path towards law enforcement, was structured with maturity beyond his years— and instead, had always been more fond of Tobirama. Hashirama, on the other hand, was much more carefree and had easily befriended the younger of the siblings with his silly antics and never ending bubbly energy. 

Tobirama adored the eldest Uchiha. He couldn't help it. Madara was the first person outside of his family to make an effort to learn sign language so they could communicate rather than viewing it a waste of time and effort and just ignoring Tobirama altogether as most people in his class did. On top of that, older boy was intelligent, quick to challenge Tobirama's mind, to make it work harder than anyone or anything else he'd focused on. And he took MMA. Thirteen year old Tobirama had thanked every god that existed that Izuna and he were so close, just because it gave him an excuse to watch Madara train and compete ("Izuna'll get bored and we all know what kind of things happen when Izuna's bored").

Those years held some of Tobirama's worst and favorite memories— both of which only reinforced his stupid crush on the man that he had thought only saw him as a younger brother, another Izuna. Now though, he had reason to believe otherwise.

Now he had some presents to get himself. Hopefully, he wasn't wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I have work in like four hours and I should have been sleeping hours ago but here I am making not so great choices XD
> 
> Hope you guys like the chapter! Let me know what you think :)


	5. Golden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found brief access to a working computer so here is the real chapter five guys

His admirer's request still rang through his mind.

_I hope for the honor of your acceptance in more than the opening of these gifts and, if I cannot, I hope for the honor of your kindness if you find me lacking._

Lacking? How could Tobirama of all people find anyone lacking? He'd spent his whole life knowing how much he himself lacked, knew in exactly what aspects— not skilled enough, not gifted enough, not fast enough, not enough— and to think someone even more faulty than himself, well, that person must be determined to be worse. It had nothing to do with whatever foolish self-esteem notion Hashirama had convinced himself it was about. No, in actuality, it had much more to do with their livelihood. They were shinobi, to undermine their enemies or to think themselves better than they really are would only lead to their downfall. One must always be cautious (healthily paranoid, Madara called it) if they truly valued their own lives.

And Tobirama did. If he hated himself so much, he wouldn't but he knew he was important. Knew his Anija would struggle without him and this village would be nothing more than shambles of a broken and unfinished dream.

It was why Tobirama had all the gifts triple checked— chakra, seals, and Sharingan— and had staunchly refused to eat the chocolates he'd been given. He didn't waste them, wouldn't have even if the circumstances would have allowed for it but alas, they did not. The fact of the matter was that Tobirama's precautions had little to no bearing on Hashirama and no amount of refusal and worry stopped his brother from eating the candy. Not for the first time, Tobirama despaired for his brother. It didn't matter that the chocolate wasn't poisoned, nor did it matter that it was apparently the richest, most delicious chocolate Hashirama, who adored chocolate, had ever eaten. Tobirama held firm. The older man had not a single shred of sense for survival. It would have just taken the very likely chance of it being poisoned and it actually being so for the night to have ended much differently.

It would have been a brilliant plan. Any shinobi worth their salt knew there was no way Tobirama would consume anything from anyone he was not comfortably familiar with (an honor given only to a choice few outside his family), let alone a mysterious gifter, while, on the same hand, any shinobi worth their salt knew Hashirama was the exact opposite. He was too kind, too keen on the idea of others holding the same inherent, unwavering goodness in their hearts, that he could not fathom for a moment anyone would use a gift as means to hurt someone. And, even if he was concerned, he relied on the Mokuton even more heavily than the Uchiha did with their Sharingan, expecting his dojutsu to work through any poisons and illnesses rather than take preventative measures so he wouldn't need to constantly use his chakra. Tobirama had a horrible theory— and thinking about it alone made his heart clench and stomach fill with bile— a theory that the Sharingan and Mokuton were more similar than it would seem, that just as overuse of the dojutsu resulted in blindness, overuse of the Mokuton would too result in something awful. And if the Sharingan only affected where the chakra was targeted, if it only damaged the eyes, what would the Mokuton do when their kekkei genkai targeted every part of Anija's body, from his very cells out?

Tobirama dreaded to think about it. 

He would need some more blood samples. Perhaps if he studied it more, and got Hashirama to use it less frequently, perhaps he'd find the answers to all the questions they didn't even know they needed to ask. But even that sounded ridiculous. In what direction do you search if you don't have a destination you were really aiming for? Just "does the Mokuton detrimentally effect the body" was too vague. He'd have to attempt to subject the cells to repeated abuse— poisons, injury, illness, and just everyday use— but how would he even begin to do so outside of Hashirama's body? Theoretically, if he extracted the DNA of a cell and replaced it with Hashirama's DNA, he could create another being with the same disposition and, if he were to adjust a specific set of chromosomes or replace it chromosomes from something else like perhaps an animal or plant, he could potentially avoid creating a child. Tobirama wouldn't be able to run any sort of test if it met hurting someone else. If only his own DNA could be partially exchanged with Hashirama's. Then he could take the tests as far as he was willing to go, as he'd done with his other, more intense experiments.

In this, Hashirama would actually understand, would not stare at Tobirama in horror or concern. Anger, maybe. Blinding fury would be a better term, a hair-flaring type of rage from the violent whipping of the older man's chakra. It had only happened a few times before, when Hashirama had less control of the emotions he tried to hide behind that stupid, bubbly personality he affected, had always ended the moment Tobirama let his own mask slip, let his brother see the fear that sat right beneath his chest. It had devastated Tobirama the first few times, unable in those moments to stop his brother, to tell Hasirama he was hurting him, took the injuries silently and kept his distance until he'd healed. The last time, the last time had been the worst. Hashirama and Tobirama had both been left scarred in horribly equal measure, invisible wounds ripped wide beneath their skin and desperately trying to sew themselves back together. It'd been so confusing, so quick when it happened. When Hashirama found him, the older man's chakra had been sun-bright, dancing like a breath of spring on fresh air. It took but a glance for it to sour, for it to become murky and dark, the feeling of being buried alive once Hashirama realized Tobirama was attempting to dig up Kawarama's grave, attempting to resurrect the boy with an imperfect jutsu. Before Tobirama could even explain, Hashirama had all but flung Tobirama to the ground and crouched over him, fists clenched in white hair and shoving it back violently into the cracking earth, leaves and tress warping to Hashirama's will behind him, lashing with intent, with a promise to _hurt_. The tanned hand moved from his hair to his throat, sinking into too soft flesh. It took only one hit, a backhand that busted his lip and sent his head snapping to the side, and then Tobirama was foolishly closing his eyes and turning away, bracing for the others that never came.

That was all it took. The wind, the oppressive feel of his brother's rage— everything stilled. Moments where they looked at each other as if seeing each other for the first time. Within seconds, his brother crumpled, horrified, held Tobirama and sobbing broken apologies into his skin. Begging— the touch of hysteria wracking through Hashirama's voice like a blade being dragged out from him, wretched in his guilt and own self-loathing— for forgiveness. Gentle, gentle hands undoing the physical damage they'd inflicted though they wanted nothing more than to fix the emotional.

Hashirama never forgave himself afterwards, thrown up his mask with even more insistence and kept himself painfully careful in his affectionate overtures towards Tobirama, passing them through a filter, a barrier, that many others did not have. While Tobirama wished he didn't, wished for ease that characterized the relationship his Anija had with Madara, he knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth, knew it was for that reason alone he got away with so much and had so much freedom for his research.

If only one could have both. 

Tobirama was drawn out of his musings by the most peculiar noises outside his office door, as if someone was being all but dragged across the floor.

"Just talk to him!"

"No, shut up! There's nothing to talk about!"

Oh god, not these two again. Just because he was just thinking of them did not give them the right to _appear_. If they started one more fight, Tobirama was going to yank their ears from their heads until they learned to _listen_.

"No Hashiram—!"

Madara all but flew threw the door, just barely managing to catch himself as a Mokuton wall shot up over the doorway, completely sealing them in.

"You idiot!" The man screamed, hands coming up to form seals.

Tobirama chucked an ink pot at him, and though Madara dodged, the ink still splattered onto his skin and clothes, marring his face and purple robes with a murky black.

"I don't think so," Tobirama said, cutting Madara off mid shriek. "Not in my office Uchiha."

"Listen here, bastard, your brother—"

"Is not of my current concern. I'm sure whatever it is, the two of you will get over it. Now tell me why he pushed you into my office."

Madara bristled, yanking a scroll from his robes unceremoniously. "Demanding brat! I found this package outside for you and he wanted me to deliver it personally. To work on our _friendship_."

The disgust was not lost on Tobirama but his attention fell much more quickly to the sealed scroll Madara carefully placed on his desk. "You said you found this?"

"Is your hearing failing you now Senju? Yes—"

"Where?"

"Outside!"

Tobirama waved his hand impatiently. "Do not play dense. Outside where, Uchiha?"

"Dense? How—?!"

"You would have me believe you found this outside yet the scroll is spotless. There is no dirt, no smudge, nothing that doesn't suggest it was anywhere but a well-kept spot so let's try this once more. Where did you find it?"

If the Uchiha could breathe flames without seals or jutsu, Tobirama was sure he'd have been burnt to a crisp by the deep exhale Madara let go in what could only be a poor attempt to restrain himself. The older man slammed his hands on his desk, the wood caving a bit inwards under his force.

"In my mail. How it got there or why it's so well-kept is not my concern so just take the damn thing and let me by on my way," he grit out. "Is that answer decent enough for you?"

Tobirama looked from him and back to what had to be his present, otherwise it most certainly wouldn't have had his name written so elegantly into it. Surely.

However, if it were work and this was the misstep of some rookie shinobi or a careless one who'd thought they were above the rules, then there would be nothing short of the most awful hell to pay. He shuddered to imagine the mayhem that could occur if their information was _labeled_ and an enemy nin were cognizant of Tobirama's access to every line of vital information that passed through the village. How little effort it would take for someone to pick their way through, find the ones that were meant for his and only a few other eyes alone, and tamper with them— it could make everything fall apart.

Perhaps they needed another way to transmit information, a way to ensure the security of their messages. Maybe a team trained in stealth beyond the capabilities of an average shinobi, maybe even above a considerably skilled shinobi. He, Anija, Madara, and Izuna could peruse the most promising shinobi amongst all the clans in the village, run the idea by other clan heads...yes. That could work. From there they could—

"Well?" Madara waved his hand in front of Tobirama's face.

"Hm? Oh yes, I suppose it should suffice. Anija won't let you out by the way but he always forgets that the windows can be opened."

Madara blinked. "He forgets..of course he does. Idiot." He paused. "Aren't you going to open it?"

"Did you intend to watch me?" Tobirama asked, arching a brow incredulously.

"Well Hashirama told me you've been receiving packages from some unknown person. If I know, everyone does. It's a little suspicious, isn't it?"

"What, that someone would admire me?" The drawl of his voice didn't match how he felt and he was suddenly glad that the mask on his face could never crack as easily as his heart.

"It's a little suspicious that no one's taken advantage of you having an admirer! What if someone took this opportunity to replace your gift with some sort of trap? I would rather not have the only sensible Senju die because someone rigged their gift." Madara waved his hands emphatically. "So go on. Open it."

"I consider myself rather capable in finding traps, Uchiha."

"You're not a fool enough to think yourself unbeatable Senju. Otherwise you wouldn't have been opening your gifts in places where there were other capable shinobi around you."

It was true— each time Tobirama had opened a gift, other than the last gift with Izuna, there was someone else of respectable skill around him, just a little distance away to not see his gifts but still close and capable enough to notice if something had gone wrong.

With a sigh, he unsealed the scroll, pulling from it a large, square package. The note was on top this time.

_On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_On the fifth day of Christmas your admirer gave to thee_   
_Five picture frames, four dragon stones, three eyes seeing, two dark chocolates, and a tiny leopard baby_

_The fifth day was supposed the mark the most expensive gift. I realize there are few things you consider priceless_ — _knowledge and the people you care for. I hope I will not have overstepped any boundaries, will not have brought back the hurt. I too have experienced a similar lost, I too find peace in their memories. I wish to give you the same and hope I have done you justice with this rather than offense._

 _I must wonder, have you figured me out yet? If not, I believe it to be my own actions to have spurned you. When we meet, I only ask for a chance to explain. When we meet, I hope you begin to see yourself as I truly see you and not as a reflection of the way I have wrongly treated you. It took me some time to be reasonable, to calm myself and accept the rationality of your actions. When I did, when I began admiring you, I felt a fool and could not act as I should have. To that I must apologize if you think I do not care for you. I do and have for a long time_ _and I wish for little more than the chance to prove it._

Madara stared at Tobirama intently, glancing to the package and back at the younger man with ill-hidden curiosity. "What is it?"

Tobirama couldn't answer. Picture frames? Family? With hands that trembled, Tobirama carefully unwrapped the paper and froze. Staring up at him, bright smiles stretching on every face, was a picture of his parents, brothers, and him. Hi parents were kneeling beside each other, Itama all but in Haha's lap and Kawarama's in Chichi's, Anija standing behind their mother with his arms around her neck and pressing his face to the top of her head and Tobirama pressed against his father's side almost shyly.

The frame beneath it held a similar picture but only with his parents and two younger brothers, standing this time with Itama in Chichi's arms and Kawarama standing between their parents, wrapped up in their mother's arms.

These pictures, moments or memories didn't exist. Never had they sat or posed in such a way, war didn't let them rest so easy. Of course, their mother had been insistent to have them each drawn just to have something of them, had their likeness put to paper mere moments before they'd been sent into battle but these were not those pictures. Hashirama had those now— he'd wanted to give them to Tobirama but he'd refused. His Anija was always the more emotional one and...and _these_ were the pictures their parents wished they had, that he wished he had. Ones where they were together, not separated and clearly on their way to die. And besides, Tobirama, Hashirama, and their father were older in the pictures, around the age they were at the river incident in fact. For a few long moments, something like the passing of an hour, Tobirama just sat there and stared, tracing his fingers along the edges of their faces reverently.

"Tobirama?" Madara asked carefully, voice softer than he'd ever heard. The older man handed him a handkerchief.

"Hm? Oh yes, my apologies," Tobirama croaked out, accepting the small cloth and brushing the tears from his face. He didn't offer an explanation...he couldn't find his words and even if he did, they would do no justice. With one last touch, he turned to the other frames.

Beneath that was a picture of Hashirama and Mito, heads tilted together and fingers entangled as they sat amongst pale but colorful flowers.

The fourth was of Izuna, Touka, Hikaku, Madara, and him, the five of them lazing around a koi pond: Izuna and Madara wrestling in it, Hikaku and Touka nibbling on snacks and laughing, and Tobirama sitting in between them all, feet in the water but a snack and book in hand. Tobirama let out a watery laugh. He remembered that day, Hashirama and Mito having had whisked away for a weeklong honeymoon and the rest of them were in desperate need of a break. Somehow they'd gone from all but hiding from their work in the Hokage office (except for Tobirama and Madara, who realized their work _would still be there_ no matter the delay) to end up in the Uchihas' backyard. It'd been a surprisingly good time— not a single fight or real argument broke out and Tobirama got a chance to not only use his suiton jutsu on Madara but also to see the man soaking wet and half unclothed. Now he had the image set in a frame. 

The last frame was of his students, all six of them proudly showing off their new ninja status. Saru and Danzo crouched beside each other, Kagami all but throwing himself across Danzo's back, while Koharu and Homura lay on the ground on either side of them, chins rested in their hands. Torifu stood behind Saru, arms thrown up in the air and balanced only on a single foot, caught mid-pose right before he'd overbalanced and fell. If he remembered correctly, Kagami's sister had taken the chance to practice recording on her Sharingan.

Could his admirer be her or perhaps related to her? He was rather a decent amount older however, and she had yet to return from her studies in the western nations. And how would she have had access to any of the other images? How would she have known what they looked like?

Further more, the images were drawn not in Japanese style of artistry, but the style more prevalent in the West. The images were filled with color, their features shaded and shaped to look realistic. It would have taken a significant amount of time to prepare and complete as well as a considerable sum of money.

Whoever his admirer was, they were set on leaving too many paths to follow. Tobirama almost couldn't wait to find out who it was, if only to thank them for the challenge.

How I Wanted to End This Part Which Would Have Taken Place Right After the Line That Ended on the Word "...Money":

....Madara activated his Sharingan at the river and, in light of the village’s newfound prosperity, he was reasonably wealthy as well.

But didn’t he like Anija? Could Tobirama have been wrong this whole time? Was the abrasive attitude towards Tobirama because he liked him? It made sense, oddly...it came more recently, after they had been getting along for some time and Izuna mentioned that the Uchiha didn’t react to their feelings the way others did not. And Anija had been trying to get them to spend more time together...the more Tobirama thought about it the more he felt like it should have been obvious. 

Tobirama set the frame down gently. "Madara?"

"Hn?"

"Are you the one giving me these gifts?"

The older man flushed red. "WHAT?! NO! Why would I—? How the hell did you figure it out already?!"

"You haven't been hiding it well. I could feel traces of your chakra on every gift but I thought it must have been by some sort of plan or mistake to send me off the trail. These memories are clearly only something you would have access to. Also, you never walk around with handkerchiefs, you must have expected me to...become emotional."

"Traces of my—? Damn it Senju! Why the hell are you so competent? Listen alright, I have seven more days worth of gifts! You will accept them gracefully," Madara shrieked.

"Madara—"

"Gracefully!"

"Isn't that besides the point of a secret admirer?" Tobirama mused. "I mean, now that I know of your affections—"

"I should out you under a genjutsu, erase your memory, bastard. You can accept the rest as courting gifts then!...if you please, I mean," Madara shuffled nervously, avoiding Tobirama's eyes and wrenching a hand through his hair.

"I suppose I can." Tobirama gave him a small smile.

Madara's eyes shot up to meet his. "Really?"

"Yes. But I'm curious—"

"I'll explain on the twelfth day!"

"Madara—"

"The twelfth day!" Madara screeched, disappearing out of the window.

Tobirama dropped his head into his hands. "That must be where Kagami gets it from."

————————————————

A Modern Mix in the West:

The next gift is literally stuffed into the pocket of his favorite jacket, a small box with a little bow on top.

Why couldn't they just leave the gifts in a normal spot? Why intrude upon his space like this? Once the twelve days were over, Tobirama was going yank the man's hair out until he could find his brain that was clearly missing somewhere in the strands.

With a long suffering sigh, Tobirama opened his present. Why were his parents so okay with this? Weren't they the ones saying they weren't ready for him to start dating? Wasn't it his brothers who said that they thought he had trash taste in men? How could this person have won their favor so easily?

Inside were two pairs of earrings, one stud and the other small silver hoops, with a single dragon earring that would curl around his ear.

Tobirama paused, touching his ear absently. He'd been wanting a new set for some time— hadn't worn a pair since the fight with Kinkaku and Ginkaku in high school when one of their friends had managed to yank his earrings from his ear (“because boys don’t wear earrings”). Though they'd healed a while ago, he'd been a little nervous to wear earrings again.

He unfolded the note tucked in a corner of the box.

 _Fears can mean both everything and nothing at all_ , _they can hold you back or drive you forward. Be you Senju, don't let others take who you are or what you like away. You've always been so strong, resilient in the face of your tormentors, unabashedly yourself in the best ways. When I saw the hesitance in your eyes, the reluctance to do the things and dress the way you have always had, I was fucking furious. I want you to know that those bastards are few and meaningless._ _We, your family and friends, your loved ones, we're the ones that matter and we love and accept you the way you are. Besides, anyone give you any trouble, tell them you have a friend whose a cop. That'll teach 'em._

_Seven more days Senju, think you know me?_

Tobirama was starting to see where all the approval was coming from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Which ending would you guys have preferred? I'm kind of feeling like showing how the story would go with both endings but I don't want to get too confusing now


	6. Geese-A-Slaying

"Touka-nee, what brings you here?" Tobirama paused, catching Saru's foot in a hand, Koharu's kunai arm with the other, and swept Kagami off his feet. Ducking Danzo's kick, he maneuvered Koharu so the girl flipped over, her leg crashing into Danzo's gut. With another movement, he tugged her back, spinning her around and causing her free arm to slap Homura across the face, knocking his glasses askew before driving a kick of his own into the boy's stomach and sending him somersaulting backwards. Absentmindedly, Tobirama kicked Kagami's feet out from him again before pulling on Saru's leg, swinging the boy up into the air and letting him go, sending him careening into Torifu. Blocking some well delivered strikes from Koharu, he flipped her over his head, her body all but plummeting onto Danzo, much to the boy's screeched dismay and pain. Knocking Kagami off his feet again ("Oh _come on,_ Sensei!"), Tobirama used his now free hands to gather water from the air, twirling the tendrils to wrap around his students and immobilize them into seated positions on the ground. Carefully undoing the blindfold, he turned to his cousin, watching her watch his students with unadulterated amusement. His eyes fell to the package in her hands. "What have you brought?"

The older woman snorted, shaking her head, grinning gleefully at his students. "Couldn't make it a bit more challenging for them, could you Cousin?" She faced him, glancing down at the box in her hands. "I was hoping you could actually answer that. It's for you."

"Oooh is it your admirer Sensei?" Torifu asked, scooting closer as best as he could with his limited range of motion. "Kagami, is it from Sensei's admirer?"

"How would I know? I don't know things!" Kagami shrieked. "I know nothing!"

"A truer statement has never before been said," Danzo drawled. "How is it Sensei, while fighting the rest of us, took you out just by knocking your feet from you? What of your Sharingan, Uchiha? Has it no actual use or are you so unable to use it effectively? Kami's sake, are you really trying to be a shinobi or a puppet?"

Kagami's expression tightened, red eyes fading to black, the sheen of tears making it glisten.

"You don't have to be such an ass about it Danzo!" Saru protested, kicking at his friend.

"No? Tell me that after he gets himself killed! How long have we been training for? He should be better!"

"That's why we work in teams, isn't it Danzo?" Tobirama interrupted. "We work to better our skills together and we defend one another. By belittling each other, you ruin the cohesiveness and compatibility of the team by introducing strife where there was none."

The boy froze, gaze contemplative, weighing his beliefs to what his Sensei was saying. He still looked doubtful.

"Tobi, if I may?" Touka asked, waiting for him to nod. When he did, she crouched down by Danzo. "I get it, kid, you are worried Kagami isn't taking his training seriously and he'd put himself at risk. But you have to remember, doubting him, putting him down, it's not always going to make him try harder. At some point he might start believing what you're saying instead and won't try to make a difference."

Tobirama could see when Danzo began to understand, could see when his vehemence became guilt. Danzo looked to the ground ashamedly. "I didn't—"

"Just apologize you jerk," Kagami pouted, rolling his eyes exasperatedly, hurt giving way now he knew Danzo was just _worried_ about him. "Don't bother explaining why you act like an asshole. We know it's because you like me."

"I don't think that's how that works, Kagami," Homura said, tilting his head back to get his glasses back in place. "At least for normal people, it doesn't."

"What do you mean? That's how— actually, I think Madara-sama is the only one like that other than Danzo. Never mind. Danzo, you were saying something to me."

Danzo glared indignantly. "Are you demanding—?"

Kagami's eyes watered and he sniffled. "I mean, you don't have to. I understand."

It was in that moment Tobirama realized he raised some weak students. Danzo spazzed as if he were physically feeling pain from Kagami's clearly fake tears. "Damn it, stop that! You can't just— I'm sorry! Stop that! I didn't mean it, okay?"

With a bright smile, tears vanishing as if they were never there, Kagami inched his way closer to the other boy, dropping his head to rest on the Shimura's shoulder. "Okay!"

Koharu glanced at her teammates in confusion. "Are you sure Kagami would start believing what Danzo says if he said it enough?" She asked slowly. "Because it just looks like he's using Danzo's own words to wrap him around his finger."

"I'm not wrapped around anyone's fingers!"

Seven pairs of incredulous eyes turned to the brunette. He glared at each of them in turn. "I'm not!"

"Oh you are, but it's okay! It's cute!" Kagami gushed, pecking Danzo on the cheek and making the boy preen.

"So _why_ should we be careful with what we say?" Koharu was looking quite done with the world in pure teenage fashion.

"Well, look at your Sensei for example. People told him he wouldn't be someone they'd pursue a relationship with so now he can't even tell when someone wants to!"

Tobirama rubbed the bridge of his nose. He wondered if he'd eventually rub out the cartilage from sheer aggravation alone. "Touka-nee—"

"Really Sensei? But M— your admirer— you know what? I'd court you!" Kagami declared, head snapping up from Danzo's shoulder.

 _"What?!"_ Danzo spluttered _. "_ Idiot, what about me? _"_

"Aha! You _do_ like Kagami!" Saru yelled.

Seven pairs of eyes stared at the Sarutobi boy this time, watching him wilt.

"Are you feeling alright, Hiruzen?" Torifu's voice was patiently kind. "We've known this for some time now."

Saru blinked, once, twice. "We have?" He said weakly.

Torifu nodded. "It's okay. Now you know too."

"Weren't we talking about Sensei?" Koharu near cried, beginning to look desperate, eyes darting pleadingly from Touka to Tobirama and back again in a manner Tobirama would have once described as melodramatic.

He knows better now. While it would never ease to amaze him— his students' inability to focus unless their lives doubtlessly depended on it that is— Tobirama is struck rather abruptly with the memory of his father looking much the same way, his tearful desperation near palpable whenever he had to deal with Tobirama's unending curiosity ("Tobirama, my son, _please_ , I do not know why the sky is blue. Maybe it's blue because the Sage likes the color blue. Why don't you see what shapes you can make with your suiton?" or "Where's Hashirama? Tobirama, please _spare me_ my son, ask your brother. He's always finding someone to court. He'll have a better understanding of that portion of anatomy"). Tobirama's mother would laugh, head thrown back and body shaking the way Anija's laughter always rendered him, smiling at his father fondly before plopping a sheet of parchment and a brush into Tobirama's hands.

 _"What do you see? What do we already know? What do you want to know and how will we go about finding it out? Write it all, Tobira, and you'll find your answers,"_ she'd crouch low, brush her fingers through his hair before resting it on his cheek, airy and whimsical even in the face of his more morbid and unusual questions. Take his hand and urge him to explore, examine, and test. _"Curiosity may have killed the cat, but we mustn't forget how satisfaction brought it back."_ All of her missions brought him a book or scroll, a theory or whisper of new ideas. All of her missions, even the one she was lost to, her injuries having lent to his and Hashirama's growing knowledge of medical jutsu, the way she intended it to should she lose her life before them. Before yesterday, he had nothing else of her but this method to his madness, a gleam of memories he often did not recall, busy as he was. Had nothing of the person who knew him best, nuances and quirks included. Had delved deeper into the madness if only to relive and imagine moments that would never again be.

His father couldn't keep up between Hashirama's rebellious nature and Tobirama's dangerous longing for the unknown. Couldn't quite regain his footing after the passing of two sons and wife (and the brave face he put up was no less a lie than Tobirama's own, heartless as much as it was necessary to keep himself from losing his sanity. The most clear resemblance, the daily reminder that Tobirama was nothing if not his father's son). Perhaps that was why Butsuma never hesitated to find more teachers for his son, never hesitated to indulge him if it could mean having Hashirama spend more of his energy helping keep an eye on Tobirama, safe at least from himself. Tobirama really couldn't blame him, he thought while eyeing his squabbling students— it was quite tiring being on the opposite end of things.

"Anywaays! Yeah, Izuna-sama was saying that Madara-sama...! Thinks I should learn to keep my mouth shut." Kagami nodded, face blanching, previous enthusiasm simpering down into nervous fidgeting. "Yes, that was it. Very important lesson. Isn't that right, Madara-sama?"

The man in question had all but appeared behind them, face flushed a bright red that would have matched his battle armor despite the blank expression across it. He sighed, long-suffering. "Yes Kagami, that was it."

"You here to watch Tobi open his gift, Uchiha?" Touka didn't seem surprised, in fact, her grin was just that edge of malicious glee.

"It could be dangerous," Madara shrugged.

"For Tobi's heart?" Touka's smile got sharper. "Or your own?"

"So! Opening the gift!" Koharu yelled, cutting off whatever Madara hoped to say. 

Tobirama scrubbed a hand down his face. He really needed to start incorporating lessons on patience and attention. Perhaps meditation would be beneficial? Plucking the gift from Touka's hands, he lowered himself to the ground and carefully undid the latches. Opening it revealed six kunai, the handles engraved with the symbol of the Hidden Leaf and within it, a single clan symbol, each different. His students' respective clan symbols. Suddenly it was hard to swallow. With surprisingly steady hands, he untucked the folded letter from the corner.

_On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me six geese-a-laying, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_On the sixth day of Christmas your admirer gave to thee_  
_Six blades-a-slaying, five picture frames, four dragon stones, three eyes seeing, two dark chocolates, and a tiny leopard baby_

_This gift is perhaps a little unorthodox but I am under the impression you would not take offense for, other than your family, nothing means more to you than the generations you believe we will leave behind. The Will of Fire exists within you-- and while I am sure you may find some reason to disagree I must remind you that one cannot teach what they themselves cannot abide by_ — _and I realize how important it is for your students to be much the same, to embody the drive to protect what matters to them, for this village to be family, not just another place to live._ _I hope you give them this as a symbol of unity: to remind them of the togetherness you have been all but hammering into their skulls and to remind them that weapons are not meant to hurt but protect. But mostly, I give you this because you have always put others before you. I give you this because, while we seldom agree with one another, I want to express my disagreements are only a matter of the differences in our opinions— where they do not seem to represent my support for you and the tidings of your heart, I wish for these gifts to do so. To claim to care about you without caring for the people and things you care for too_ _would be a half-hearted love at best_ _and I, for one, would never do anything so incompletely. I stand by you as truly as I stand by myself._

"What is it Sensei?" Saru asked, trying to peek over the open lid.

Tobirama smiled, finally undoing the water bindings before handing each student their kunai.

Homura pushed his glasses up. "Isn't it supposed to be a gift for you?"

His smile got wider as he looked at each of his students. "It is."

Version 2 (mostly the same, just no Touka and this interaction before Tobirama opens the gift):

Madara stomped up to Tobirama just as the man was about to step onto the training field where his students were waiting, a package in hand. He could see Kagami watching them eagerly, bouncing on his toes even as his teammates flocked him, their confusion obvious even in the distance, and badgered him with questions that he was very clearly not answering, too caught up with focusing his Sharingan on his Sensei and clan head.

"Here!" The Uchiha all but shoved the box into Tobirama's hands unceremoniously. "Here's your other gift."

"You are actually continuing this?"

"Just take the gift Senju!" Madara snapped, red-faced.

Tobirama traced the edge of the box. "I had always thought you liked Anija."

Madara blinked owlishly. "You're joking."

"No. I am reasonably sure that many in the village would agree—"

" _Agree?!_ He's like a brother to me!"

Tobirama tilted his head curiously. "What would that make me then as Hashirama's brother?"

"Nothing! We have no relation outside of this!" The older featured between the two of them, hand lingering towards the box as if the gift alone encompasses all that they were to one another. "Kami. _Hashirama?_ Ewww." Madara shuddered. "I'm leaving!"

"Does Anija care for you however?" Tobirama hoped his hesitance didn't show. He'd been so overwhelmed the day before, caught in a whirlwind of emotions he dare not show, that he hadn't considered the true position of what it would mean to accept Madara's courtship. He'd been... _excited_ that for the first time, someone he liked returned his feelings.

He hadn't thought of his brother first, not like he usually did, hadn't thought much at all before accepting. Later though, when Madara was gone and he and Hashirama were walking home, Tobirama could feel his brother's distress at being ignored by the man he considered his best friend. The man who'd decided to spend most of the day with Tobirama bantering over paperwork rather than deflecting and eventually giving in to his friend's whims as he usually did.

Madara turned to look at him, expression washing from flustered flirting to the calculating look of a man used to leading and winning wars. "This has really been bothering you, hasn't it?"

Tobirama's silence was answer enough.

"Perhaps, when you are finished with your students, we could discuss this at length over a late lunch?"

He agreed, hurrying past Madara. It would be best to put this out of his mind until he could properly address it.

"Sensei! Sensei! Madara-sama is your admirer?!" Saru shrieked, starry eyed in his excitement. "Does that speak well for the future relationship among the Senju and Uchiha?"

A child after his brother's own heart.

"If you can land a hit on me during a team spar, I will answer all of your questions. If not, I will ensure you are only assigned D-rank missions for the next month."

(Insert fight segment and Tobirama opening the gift/handing out the kunai)

"These are so cool!" Koharu sounded reverent, clutching her kunai near to her chest.

"Sensei, do you think, one day, our clan would be just another trait of us— like the color of our hair or our height— rather than the thing often dividing us?" Kagami asked, calmly and thoughtful as he usually was when he wasn't being asked to hide something. Tobirama breathed a sign of relief. He didn't think he could handle any more of Kagami's diversionary tactics.

"That is what we are aiming towards— a unity where we put our differences aside and acknowledge that our similarities, the things that bind us together, are much greater.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be going. Your first D-rank mission will be tomorrow. I suggest you get your rest and put more effort in your training."

To his students groans, he hiraishin'd to where he could feel Madara's and Hashirama's chakras and promptly regretted it.

"Just one break!" Hashirama begged, running to hide behind Tobirama.

"NO! Excuse me, Tobirama." Sidestepping the younger Senju, Madara tackled Hashirama, pinning the man to the ground. "Ask again Hashirama. _I dare you."_

Hashirama stared up at his friend with watery eyes. "Noooo, you're going to hurt me."

Madara leaned down a little closer, grinning viciously and Sharingan flashing. "Yes I will. So what are you going to do?"

Hashirama sniffled. "My paperwork."

"And?"

"And? T-there's more?" 

Tobirama sighed. His brother's chakra was flaring with fear and misery.

"Yes." Madara rapped the man on the head with a scroll. "Tell your brother you hold no feelings for me, as I don't for you. That we never had."

Hashirama blinked. "But Madara, we do hold feelings for each other."

Squawking, Madara scrambled up. "No we don't!"

"Yes we do!"

"No we don't, you idiot!"

"Yes we do!"

"No we—"

"Shut up! Anija!" Tobirama was perhaps going to lose his mind for Christmas. At this point, he couldn't think of anything better. "What feelings do you have for Madara?"

"We're friends! Those are feelings!"

"You—!" Madara whacked Hashirama on the head. "Romantic feelings! We were talking about not having romantic feelings for each other, dirt for brains!"

"Whaa? Ewww no! Tobi that's gross!"

"See?" Madara paused, turning to Hashirama slowly. "What do you mean 'gross'?

Hashirama flapped his hands. "Nothing bad—!"

"Nothing bad? How else am I to take that!"

"Well, I mean, I don't even like men in that way and compared to Mito—"

"You're comparing me to Mito?!"

"I mean, who else would I have romantic feelings for than my wife?"

"..."

"It's okay! Someone will love you!"

"..."

"One day!"

"..."

"Maybe?"

Madara whirled towards Tobirama. "Believe me now?"

"Ah, I have no reason not to."

"Reason not to what?" Hashirama asked, owlishly.

Madara ignored him. "So?"

Tobirama followed Madara's lead. "Considering every aspect of this, I gather that agreeing won't hurt me."

"Aspect of what? Hurt you? Why would something hurt you? Is someone hurting you Tobirama?!" Hashirama cried, grabbing onto his brother in panic.

Madara smiled smugly. "With love."

_"What?!"_

Tobirama disappeared before he had to deal with any more of their dramatics, feeling more tired than he had after a binge on his experiments and trading with his students for three days straight.

At least, if there was one good thing to come out of this, he finally found out Anija and Madara never and still don't care for each other the way he thought they had. Now he really couldn't wait for the other courting gifts.

————————————————

Tobirama was going to _murder_ his secret admirer. Peel every cell of skin from their bones and bathe them in their own blood. Obliterate them slowly. With utmost joy.

It wasn't bad enough they invaded his space. Wasn't so terrible they got everyone he knew to join in this hair-brained scheme. No, _no, they had to touch his bookshelf_.

It was simple. Follow the rules and all would be fine. 

1\. Check the alphabetically ordered record Word document titled "Book Records" on the computer under the guest user for the titles of all the books in his collection

2\. If found, complete request form to borrow it and expect 24 hours for a response

3\. If browsing, pay attention to both the categorical organization and Dewey Decimal system

4\. Use a place marker and do not move a book without setting the marker in place first

5\. If you like said book, put it back and leave the marker beside it.

6\. Complete request form and expect 24 hour wait for response

7\. If adding a book to said collection, double check record document that it isn't already there

8\. If there, take it back

9\. If not, leave it in a neat place on his desk

10\. Do not touch anything, do not attempt to make changes to the Word document (looking at you Izuna. It is password locked).

What did his admirer do? Whoever the bloody person is they hacked into his Word document, made changes and added the books to his collection. _Without_ requesting permission.

Death was the only suitable punishment.

It didn't matter that they organized the books and record properly, labeled them accordingly to Dewey Decimal guidelines as well as Tobirama's own, and neatly packed them onto the shelves. It didn't matter that Tobirama liked the new additions (one detailed Japanese culture, etiquette, and history, the other on Japanese modern and classic literature, the third on Japanese politics— he'd been wanting to learn more about the place his father was from and this provided him a beautiful opportunity outside of stories).

No. Tobirama made rules for a reason— to be followed as stated. For the sake of the holiday, he could make it a little less painful but no other mercies would be given. Death will happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tobirama is very protective of his books...


	7. Gods-A-Blessing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Two chapters when I'm days behind? XD

Tobirama was a man of fact. There were few things that he left untested, fewer still left unquestioned. Luck was not one of them. Luck was for fools who didn't care to put forth the effort and work that was needed to ensure one's best chance at success. Which made today ever more baffling.

It started normal enough. He woke up and went about getting ready for work. Had enough peace and quiet for once to meditate and enjoy a cup of strong tea, the caffeine a delicious thrum in his veins. That finished and mood considerably bright, he opened his front door, closed it, and proceeded out his gate in a relaxing (speed) walk towards the Hokage Tower. Only to be stopped by a village craftsman about halfway there.

There wasn't anything unusual or captivating about this man, nothing that screamed "TRAP" despite the considerably sized wooden casing in his work-calloused hands. Tobirama paused, ready to listen for an explanation or question or request (really, anything of actual _importance_ ), only to have the package carefully pushed into his hands with a brief " _This was ordered for you Tobirama-san!"_ thrown in his direction as the man took to the nearest corner and all but vanished amongst the other villagers beginning to crowd the streets.

If the man weren't a civilian, he'd be an excellent shinobi spy or stealth operator, Tobirama mused.

Still, given the recent events, it wasn't altogether surprising. He stretched his senses; Madara was in the office, frustration and nervousness roiling in his chakra like a particularly antagonized snake and Anija, well Anija was not in the office at all. Tobirama stretches his senses further.

There he was. If Tobirama memorized the map of Konoha correctly (of course he did, he drew up the damn thing), that was a gambling den. It'd been intended as a decent establishment, a store or restaurant perhaps, but instead, it became a place more often frequented by the village lowlifes. If that was how their esteemed Hokage was to behave, Tobirama would only be much more willing to deliver. His brother will soon quite regret his actions in this foolish moment.

But first, Tobirama had a gift to unwrap.

"Madara."

"Hm?" The man looked up from where he was quite literally tugging at his hair while reading over a thick team of paperwork on his desk.

"Is that Anija's?"

"Yes! That bloody plant waste forgot this shit is due at noon _today_ and he fucking drew all over the damn thing! Like an impulsive, untrained child! I'm damn near losing my fucking mind trying to redo all of it!"

Tobirama checked the Uchiha's chakra. The man wasn't feeling nurderous yet. "Well Anija's gambling."

Madara froze, slowly unwinding his fingers from his hair to rest his hands calmly on his desk. "I beg your pardon?"

"The gambling den by Rei's."

With a careful nod, Madara stood up from his desk. "If you'll excuse me."

As soon as the man was out the door, chakra overflowing with blood hunger, Tobirama all but dropped himself into his desk chair and unwrapped the present with quick enough movements to rival the hiraishin. The box fell open, revealing a rather ornate fish bone statue carving of the Seven Gods of Fortune. He plucked up the note.

_On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me seven swans-a-swimming, six geese-a-laying, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_On the seventh day of Christmas your admirer gave to thee seven gods-a-blessing,_  
_six blades-a-slaying, five picture frames, four dragon stones, three eyes seeing, two dark chocolates, and a tiny leopard baby_

_I know you don't believe in things like luck when hard work exists but a little luck never hurt anybody. Perhaps today shall work especially in your favor._

It was a cute and foolish thought. He should have realized his admirer was as whimsical as they were knowledgeable; all the past gifts hit a level of sentimentality that often belied practicality. Tobirama tossed away the wrapping paper, settled the statue onto the corner of his desk, giving it one last fond look— it's lack of sensibility didn't make it any less of a sweet gift and Tobirama wouldn't dare complain even if it did (after all, did a starving man get picky with food? Just the same, an undesirable demon could not become finicky when given some token of love. It would be more selfish than he could, would dare allow himself. His admirer didn't have to care for him, could probably find many more far more suitable and, since they hadn't, well, the least Tobirama could do was be grateful, regardless of likes and dislikes. He'd be a fool to think that would be allowed for people like him)— and began his work. 

That's when things got weird.

He'd explain it but it would take far too much time and honestly, he's not quite sure how his admirer had so many strings to pull.

Within minutes, the first pleasant surprise was the arrival of a message from the new shogun (a frivolous and fanciful man that was never easily appeased, bull-headed in dated, uninformed views) long and unnecessarily wordy in the way only politics could be. It took reading over a scroll worth of empty to words to reach where they discussed the topics that truly mattered, hitting the notes with much more promise than Tobirama could have hoped for. After so many months managing the negotiations, rewording, rewriting, redoing them they finally reached an agreement that included more funding than they could have hoped for. Even better (and dare he say it was as if another stroke of luck was in his favor), the shogun had somehow heard of Tobirama's plans regarding an orphanage and academy (plans he hadn't spoken about outside of suggesting it to his brother) and decided that, in exchange of shinobi services, he would provide additional funding for these projects themselves.

The next oddity were the seven shinobi Tobirama had only ever seen in passing filing into his office, each bearing recommendation from their clan heads and an official approval form from the Yamanaka stating they had all been evaluated and deemed appropriate to be teachers. It took perhaps ten minutes to verify everything was in fact legitimate (and correctly filled out!) and another five to set up a meeting in the coming week to discuss academic plans.

By then, Tobirama was certain that whatever luck had befallen him had worn out. He'd never been more pleasantly pleased to be wrong before.

Because lunch came with Tobirama's favorite dish from his favorite restaurant— not by his doing, not by anyone ordering it for him, no. By the restaurant messing up Hashirama's order. It was perhaps good fortune that he and his brother had such different tastes, that his brother remembered that they did. And so Tobirama didn't even have to leave his work to get food or forget getting food at all. He enjoyed it right there at his desk.

Then came the shinobi bustling through his door with a book he'd supposedly found on the mission he was just returning from. A book that Tobirama had been searching for for _years_ and lo and behold, no one else cared for civilian literature, a quick and thorough check showed it held no secrets or traps, and that meant Tobirama got to _keep it._ The best part, it was in mint condition, not a single smudge or rip or any sort of discoloration in the material whatsoever. Which probably meant his admirer somehow found out of Tobirama's want for the text, found said rare text, and managed to deposit the package conveniently and efficiently enough to not have attracted any attention from the jonin team _without damaging the book at all_. At this point, Tobirama was racking his brain for any shinobi or kunoichi so skilled, only to reach the same conclusions as he had before. Izuna and his Nara were starting to look like better options— Who else would be so efficient and well-read than the clan both brilliant and brilliantly lazy?

Not to mention the next surprise came in the form of two representatives from the Akimichi and Nara Clans, bringing with them their newest development to offer for further testing and then, hopefully, village use. The food pills were rather incredible and, having sampled one, considerably better than rations. With the right amount of work, they could easily provide a suitable set for each traveling shinobi they had in the system and, if they tweaked it just right, maybe even some for traveling civilians. It would cut down the concern for packing too little food or damaged goods when meeting with difficulties along the way, thereby reducing injury and illness to their personnel and amplifying their efficiency.

It was feeling all sorts of too good and perhaps a few times Tobirama questioned whether he wasn't trapped in some dream or kind genjutsu. Even his Anija didn't stray too far from his work, getting it down in a _timely manner without mistakes_ (though that most likely had to do with Madara all but dragging Hashirama back to the office by the ear, robes and hair charred and dirtied, dramatic tears leaking down in face as he pleaded for forgiveness. Madara didn't bother to respond, just rested his gunbai behind his seat threateningly and summoned his falcon, the lovely bird stabbing her beak into Anija's hand in rebuke every time the man got distracted). No amount of dispelling chakra showed it to be anything but pure reality however. 

Tobirama thought he might cry from happiness alone.

His day was only a little over halfway through when Mito glided through his door, guiding a wizened older woman behind her. A wizened old woman who Tobirama _knew_ was easily the best sealing master to date. Even Mito hadn't known she'd be stopping by the village. And she wanted to speak to him! He hadn't felt so excited since he was a child receiving his summons.

Better even, there wasn't any disturbance pulling him away or stopping him from sharing his notes and theories, nothing getting in the way of this famed kunoichi sharing _her_ notes with _him_. The afternoon, rather than be punctuated by stress and yelling and Tobirama ready to murder half the village with his bare hands, was peaceful. It was better than peaceful. 

It was official then. Tobirama's admirer was undoubtedly something of a god. If this could be something of an usual occurrence he was more than ready to erect a shrine and offer daily prayers.

He glanced at his brother's blessedly empty desk. Perhaps offer prayers a few times a day.

** Version 2: **

(Just about everything as above because Madara still trying to be sly, as if a flame can hide in the dark. This man)

Tobirama waited until Madara allowed Hashirama to run to the restroom ( _"you've two minutes Senju. Two. A second longer and I'll toss you in your own filth")._

"Madara, how did you get all of these things to happen?"

"Hn?"

"The seven events. How did you make them occur?"

"A man needs to have his secrets Senju."

Tobirama arched a brow and Madara sighed. "I'll tell you on the last day."

"Did you threaten everyone?"

"...I prefer the term 'kindly persuaded' if you must."

"Why did I even ask?" 

Madara made a noise of affront, lips threatening to pull into a pout.

Tobirama bit back a smile. "You're gifts have been well received and appreciated, Madara. Thank you."

If those few words made Madara preen, made Tobirama flattered to see the other happy to have pleased him, well neither man was saying anything.  
————————————————

Wrapped up beneath the tree in a garishly colored paper was what was quite obviously his next present from his admirer. How did he know, especially despite the other presents tucked up around it? That was quite easy. The damn thing had a giant and similarly atrocious name tag written across saying so.

It was an ornament, not too expensive from the looks of with, but painted with precise strokes and handled with a delicate care. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves except Snow White had white hair and a thin, narrow face like Tobirama rather than cherubic as was the Disney version.

An outsider wouldn't see the significance, not the way Tobirama did. Another clue to his admirer then?

He remembered it well— the whole mess having just as easily battered his heart and pride as it had uplifted it. Oh yes, it was one of those worst times of his life but best Madara moments he could recall— seventh grade if he were right. 

It'd been so stupid, the theater teacher had obviously had not realized their mistake until it was too late. Auditions had come and gone and the idiot teacher had thought Tobirama was a girl and gave him the part of Snow White. Even though he had specifically signed up for stage crew. Cue the angry emails and calls from parents, the bullying and ostracizing at school—

It was to be expected. A boy, a deaf one at that, to be Snow White? How was he to speak his lines, let alone sing?

It'd been humiliating. He'd spent too many days hiding, covering his injuries and being wary for others, jacket with the fur along the hood pulled low over his head just to deter kids from trying to yank his hearing aids from his ears. Too many days hiding in the bathroom or atop the covered walkways hopefully until Anija or their parents were near the front of the car rider line when they could pick him up instead of just walking as he usually did. 

It couldn't happen often of course. Only a few times he'd been spared, the new normalcy of his days only resulting in brutal beat downs, surrounded most often by too many kids or kids who were older, taller, and stronger. The days he weren't were the days the adults found him, grabbed him by his arm or hair and screamed at him, faces _too close_. Hurled things from their car windows and threatened to teach him what it meant to be a boy. Offered to help make him a girl if that's what he really wanted.

His family had been pissed and hurting ( _"When did I become such a failure that I cannot even protect my own son?_ ). Worried and too poor to really do anything to make it stop. Being poor meant no changing schools, no pursuing legal action, no time off of work to make sure Tobirama got home safe. Even Anija had too many responsibilities by then— clubs, baseball, and his part-time job getting in the way no matter how much he tried to rearrange his schedule. Hashirama had wanted to quit it all, throw away the scholarships he'd been working so hard for, even give up his chance at his own bright future (because he had those responsibilities for a _reason_. They were going to get him into college because without it, their family could not afford to) just to walk with Tobirama the 15 minutes it took to get from the school to their house.

Madara had heard Hashirama's complaints, swooped in with his lawyer cousin and sergeant police officer dad, dropped a lawsuit on the principal's desk with very few words that had very big consequences.

First and foremost, Tobirama was still Snow White. After all the crap he'd gone through, he was going to shove it in everyone's faces until their were all but smeared with his petty revenge. It worked wondrously. Anti-discrimination laws and whatever. And the play was a surprising success— apparently, due to some mistranslation, it came around that he had desperately wanted to be Snow White, got the part and then was horribly abused for being better fitted than the other jealous bastards going to his school. Many people within the community, even those not at all connected to the school, were horrified with how he was treated and showed up just to show their support. The school hadn't seen such profit from anything else they'd done _ever._

Secondly, any student who had participated in the harassment had been immediately suspended for the longest duration available with the worst of the perpetrators automatically being expelled and introduced to the juvenile delinquency system. Many were given mandatory community service on top of that, much to them and their parents' displeasure. That had been particularly satisfying. His bullies were not just assholes, but they were unbelievably stupid. Really, if you were going to beat the shit out of someone, you probably shouldn't record and save it on your phones. You also probably shouldn't act tough when dealing with other delinquents who were in there for more serious offenses lest you get a taste of your own medicine. 

Oh well. It was much too late now though.

The third change however was his favorite. The third was Madara walking home with him every day. Despite the punishment being dealt onto his school-age tormentors, there was no way Tobirama could accurately recognize and name the adult ones, some of whom had no relation to the situation, just heard about it somehow and were angry enough to try and do something about it. It didn't take long for that to stop too, though. Two altercations and then it ceased altogether.

Tobirama couldn't blame them obviously. These were adults who felt tough beating up on a clearly prepubescent child. They were bound to feel pathetically less so when dealing with Madara. State-champion level fighter Madara. It was almost morbidly delightful to watch, see angry faces melt to hesitance at the sight of the muscular young man walking beside Tobirama. See those muscles in action, see them all but pummel people into the soft dirt along the sidewalk, when their choice of action was to press their luck. Never breaking anything but striking just right every time to make it _hurt._

But that wasn't what he liked the most. It was a little sillier than that really. He liked that Madara would hang out at his house until someone else came home, would indulge Tobirama's whims with a soft smile— everything from answering inane questions to letting himself be dragged to the library or ice cream parlor, Madara gave in easily each time. 

And Tobirama positively bloomed under all the attention, soaking it up like rain on hot concrete. Shyly and sneakily wheedling his way into getting more until walking home together somehow led to Madara watching over the play rehearsals and Tobirama's dance recitals. Until answering odd questions became answering personal questions, first in person and then over text or videochat.

High school came and Tobirama had a reputation that went beyond his dyed hair and piercings. People knew him for his intelligence, his quirkiness. Knew him for his baseball star brother and almost emotionless passiveness. Whispered at times about his appearance or loudly admired his art and dance skills. But the most appealing, blush-inducing one, the one that made him _preen_ , was that they knew him as off-limits, untouchable, all because he was important to Madara.

And for all that Tobirama was prideful, for all that he could take a hit and throw one back even more damaging than the one that landed on him, it was absurdly nice knowing he was safe because the person he liked was determined enough to make sure he was. 

He couldn't help but feel a little nostalgic— those childish feelings of his gave way when Madara left for college and he'd found himself in a couple other relationships he'd been rather hopeful to have work out. 

Tobirama glanced at the note, more intrigued to what his admirer had to say than anything else.

_Is this hint enough Senju? You only have five more days._

It didn't hurt that Madara was back, that Tobirama knew himself better and could actually handle a relationship now. It didn't even hurt how much more time they spent together without the barrier of their age difference feeling like a wall standing between them. He hung the ornament from the tree, watching it glitter softly in the low light. No, it didn't hurt at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am partially done with chapter eight. I'm hoping to finish the story completely by, most reasonably, the end of this week. So uhhh Happy New Years as well guys


	8. Bunnies-A-Painting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah, so I thought I could finish this story in an allocated time. I am hoping to get it finished before school starts back though because my other stories will take up whatever free time I manage to wrangle for myself.

"Tobiramaaaaaa!" Hashirama bounded through what was just a moment before Tobirama's front door, the wood sinking into the ground. His eyes and smile were much too bright and wide for the early hour, hair flouncing with every bounce in his step.

Tobirama looked up from his book, sleepy eyes narrowing sharply, affecting his "very unimpressed" expression the best he could while running on so little sleep. Wilting, Hashirama slouched back outside, the wood reforming behind him, and knocked against the door. Tobirama activated his privacy seals, the sound of his brother's knocking ceasing quickly.

Sometimes his brother was quick to understand when Tobirama wanted to be left alone, would freeze his antics and all but vanish until reappearing just when Tobirama was ready for him to. Other times Anija did as he pleased with the same lack of patience he did far too many things with. After perhaps two minutes, two wondrous minutes of silence, Tobirama realized that today was one of the other times.

The edge of the wall curled onto itself, twisting like a Swiss roll to let Hashirama stride back in, hands on his hips and tutting disapprovingly. The wall closed behind him.

"Tobi! You can't just use seals to keep people out!"

"Oh? That's surprising considering it has an excellent way of working against _most_ people Anija."

His brother dropped down onto the couch beside him, wrapping his arms around Tobirama and resting his head onto the younger one's shoulder. "Don't be like that Tobi!" Hashirama whined. "I had something very important to talk to you about!"

"Is someone hurt?"

"No? Why would—"

"Dying?"

"Tobi—"

"Is the village being attacked?"

"Of course not!"

"Then what, brother, is so important you must bother me on my one day off?" Tobirama hissed, deliberately turning his page a touch too slow to be anything other than a threat. Hashirama blanched, shifting a little so he could wrap his arms around Tobirama's, effectively pinning them down. "Anija!"

"It's important to me Tobirama! You know how I worry!"

"Worry about _what_?"

"You!"

"Anija—"

"You're going to the winter celebration, right?" Hashirama tightened his arms, hugging Tobirama tighter.

Tobirama scowled. "Do I have a choice? I do believe that as a respected figure in village politics, my presence would be expected."

Hashirama plowed on. "Are you going with anyone?"

"You—"

"Not me. I mean, as a partner of sorts."

Tobirama stiffened. The question felt particularly cruel; his brother knew how people felt towards the White Demon, knew that no one would want to be seen around him outside of work— too sure he'd be unpleasant, too accustomed to admiring and fearing him from afar.

He brushed it off. He didn't care. He was fine on his own (and if he knew it would take more to convince himself of that— that he and anyone else he would have pursued would be better off alone— than anyone else, it didn't _matter_ ). That didn't mean he wanted to speak of it though.

"A partner? Anija, I've no time—"

"Tobirama please. Touka and I were speaking and...well, I know I am not as clever as you are, brother, and I know how I act but, Tobirama, I am not so blind to not notice the things in front of me!" He finally pulled back, cupping Tobirama's face. For the first time in a long time, Hashirama spoke softly, hesitant the way he's perhaps never been. "You like Madara, don't you?"

" _Anija-?_ " Tobirama jerked away as much as he could but his brother grabbed his hand.

"Be honest with me, Tobirama! You like him, don't you?"

The lie was at the tip of his tongue. It would be no harrowing feat to let it slip but Tobirama...Tobirama never lied to his brother. Never could betray the man kinder to him than the whole world put together.

Feeling horribly meek, ashamed that he dare covet someone he was so unworthy of, someone only his brother was worthy of, Tobirama could only give one short, quick nod. Hashirama sighed, smiling, brushing a thumb beneath Tobirama's eyes.

"Then you should ask him, Tobirama. I can't bare seeing you like this— the days I am not with you, the days you aren't at work, I fear you to be lonely. This village, I wanted it for you Tobi. I wanted you to have a place where you can teach your students and do your research, yes, but I also wanted you to fall in love with some handsome and worthy man and learn to be loved. To relax and enjoy the moments of life you are living." Something wistful danced in Hashirama's eyes as the man stared at the family pictures now on Tobirama's wall. "I wanted that for you since I knew your preferences, knew it was something you didn't dare let yourself wish for no matter how many times you wished for it. I cannot imagine anyone more worthy of you than Madara."

Frustration threatened to send his nerves alight, dancing like flames beneath his skin that only wanted to lash out and burn everything around him down with it.

"Anija, _you_ and Madara—"

Hashirama's brows furrowed and he held his brother's gaze.

"What of Madara and I?"

"Please brother, you just lectured me on how you were no fool. Surely you've noticed that the two of you—"

The two of you love each, possibly more than you love anything or anyone else. _Everyone_ can see it.

"The two of us what, Tobi? You are not making much sense."

Something in Tobirama snapped. "He cares for you! And you him, Anija! You cannot tell me—"

"Is _that_ what this is about, Tobi? You are afraid of interfering in whatever feelings you've convinced yourself we have for each other? No, no listen, don't interrupt," Hashirama held Tobirama still. "Tobi, Madara and I are just friends. Brothers if we were to liken the relationship we have to anything else, but that is all. No, listen. I know for _a fact_ that Madara feels no more for me than that." His stern face became sheepish. "Besides, I uh never did really find interest in the male form in such a manner. Not that there is anything wrong that you and he do—! I just, Mito. I love her."

Tobirama blinked. "What?"

"I love my wife? I think I always loved her. Do you remember that time when we first went to Uzo—"

"You and Madara don't like each other?"

"That's gross Tobirama. I see him almost as I see you— if I saw you the same it's be so unseemly to try and have you two to go together— two brothers, eww. But you deserve the best and since you obviously can't have me or Mito, I'm so glad you like men for that alone by the way, Madara is the next best option! That way if he hurts you he's right here! Right near me for me to kill! It would work perfectly!"

"Anija—" For once Tobirama felt gobsmacked, his words completely lost to him. Madara and his brother _didn't_ like each other? But how—? He supposes his Anija never had any sense to boundaries but he'd have thought Madara...he was an idiot. Of course Madara didn't either. How many times had Izuna complained of it?

Had Hashirama and Madara truly never cared for each other in that manner? He heard it from his Anija— he'd have to hear it from Madara too. Something like hope fluttered in his chest. Imagine if, if Madara actually—

He dare not get his hopes up.

"Ah well, I'll be on my way otouto. Ask Madara to the function! Oh and there was something by your doorstep."

Hashirama stepped through the wall (because working doors or windows were apparently not enough for the dramatic fool), the paneling sinking into the ground, and returned with a somewhat thin, rectangular object with a decent length. It looked like perhaps another picture frame but large enough to take up about three feet of wall space across and at least one down. A note was pasted to the wrapper.

"Here you go! Love you, bye!"

Without another word, Tobirama watched his brother wander off, his wall not yet restored.

"Don't even think about it! Go to work, Anija! And fix my wall!" Or try to wander off at least.

Hashirama slumped his shoulders, pouting and turning back towards the Hokage Tower, Tobirama's wall replacing its self even as Hashirama disappeared out of sight.

Tobirama sighed, feeling overly fond. He loved his brother, he truly, truly did, no matter what anyone thought. Of course, just about every interaction with the man left him drained but it didn't matter. When Anija was near, no matter how much he made Tobirama want to run himself through with his katana, the older man's presence almost made Tobirama forget the two spaces that took residence in his heart, overfilled as it often would be with a glaringly bright chakra and more love than he knew what to do with.

Still, he looked to the pictures hanging on his wall, visible in the place he now tried spending more of his time, wandering if he'd have felt the same had he not lost Kawarama and Itama. If Anija would have been the same.

It was a peculiar thought he didn't like wasting too much time on. There was no changing what already is so why rethink and reconsider? It was enough to send one mad to be stuck in the past.

Tobirama stroked his hand across the wrapping paper. What of his admirer? Would Anija approve of them? It was just as foolish to live in a dream that could not exist and yet— to think his brother wanted Tobirama to be with Madara of all people, that he was so sure that Madara cared for nothing more than friendship between them—

He shook his head. The second greatest shinobi of Fire Country, the only "worthy" one for Tobirama's affections. His brother was ridiculous. He just wanted Tobirama with someone who could be obligated and blackmailed into treating Tobirama well.

Hopefully Tobirama's admirer wasn't quaky in their will. If Tobirama chose them. He didn't really know what to do— he knew Madara, liked the man immensely but his admirer had a way of knowing, of writing the words Tobirama didn't even know he wanted or needed to read.

Perhaps, for once, he could leave a problem for another day. Tobirama opened the note first. In neat calligraphy was a list of sorts— the eight beatitudes?

Tobirama wasn't particularly religious but this was...nice? Unwrapping what surely had to be a frame gave Tobirama pause. It was a painting of Konoha from the mountain, the setting sun in the image putting the village in stunning relief. Written in the same neat calligraphy were the words "Blessed are those born in Konoha, for they shall know a childhood without war."

Once again his admirer had rendered him unspeakably emotional. Tears pricked at his eyes and he almost laughed at himself. He hadn't been felt so uncontrolled in years, not since he was a very young child.

_On the eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me eight maids-a-milking, seven swans-a-swimming, six geese-a-laying, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_On the eighth day of Christmas your admirer gave to thee eight words-a-saying, seven gods-a-blessing,_   
_six blades-a-slaying, five picture frames, four dragon stones, three eyes seeing, two dark chocolates, and a tiny leopard baby_

_This poetic venture grows even more difficult as the days go on. I long for a day when I can speak to you from my heart without such a silly opening_ , _if you'll allow me so much, if my own trepidations would allow me as much._

_There are many things in common of which we love, this dream being one of them. I'm sure you've noticed my gifts hold sentiment but nothing of which would bind you in any way to me. Nothing that bears resemblance or remembrance of me. It was for simple reasons. I wish for a world where your dreams can come true, and while I hope to win your favor, I want for your dreams to exist with or without me._

_The time grows nearer for me to reveal myself. If you can find it within yourself to perhaps spare me a chance, I ask you to hang this gift in your office where I can know my attempt has been well-received._

For once, someone recognized he too had dreams. For once, someone considered he might have his own reasons to live.  
Tobirama swallowed thickly, a touch overwhelmed— wholly improper for a shinobi. He couldn't hate it though, not when his heart was welling with happiness and not pain, not when the tears almost tasted sweet.

If his admirer was truly this person, not flowery words with thorns to stab into his weakest points, Tobirama thought he could maybe get over his ill-fitted crush on Madara.

One more glance at the letter. Yes, there could be a good chance at maybe. He _did_ have a place in his office that would be just perfect for the painting.

** Version 2: **

Tobirama scowled, closing and setting down his book. He went to his door, feeling his day off slipping away despite the early hour. He'd so been looking forward to having just one day— a few scant hours even— without having to worry about work. His luck from yesterday must have been a temporary privilege.

"Madara, to what do I owe this honor?" He didn't expect to sound as tired as he felt. The older man flinched slightly.

"Nothing! I was in the area...were you busy?" There was a package of sorts wrapped up and poorly hidden behind Madara's back.

"I think the whole point of a day off is to not be busy, Madara, unless you somehow use yours otherwise?" Tobirama drawled. "And whatever that is that you are trying to hide, why didn't you put it in a storage scroll?"

Madara flushed, stricken in his own embarrassment. He fidgeted uneasily before freezing and jerking upright, mouth set in a stubborn line.

"I am courting you, aren't I? To hide the tokens of my affection would be to be ashamed of having given them. I only hold it this way to surprise you." The Uchiha shoved the present into Tobirama's hands. "I'll see you when you come back to work. Rest well, Tobirama."

Tobirama smiled softly, feeling almost breathlessly flattered, at Madara's retreating back. "Are you sure you wouldn't care for some tea?"

The man spun around haphazardly, nearly overbalancing. "Tea?"

"Yes, tea. Often made from seeping leaves of a sort in boiling water. I believe you've had it before?" 

Oh, he hadn't meant to say that. He'd have thought his appreciation would curb his sarcasm but it seemed that sarcasm was also his nervous default (Hashirama would also be quick to claim it was his loving default as well).

"Of course I've had it before!" Madara snapped. He bit his lip, glancing in the direction of the Tower. "I could have some tea."

Tobirama welcomed Madara in, hoping he could hold onto his poise while the older man was there. This giddiness in his gut— it was more pleasant than he'd thought it would be.   
  


Later, after they'd wiled away a few hours just talking (of course they argued, how could they not? A delightful back and forth that had them smiling and laughing rather than ready to wring each other's necks) and Madara had left with something of an air of reluctance, lips tugged up in the most gentle smile Tobirama had ever had directed at him, Tobirama opened his present.

(Insert the above opening present scene)

Tobirama laughed wryly, shaking his head and decided yes, he could still hang the painting on his wall even if Madara already had his favor.

————————————————

 _Why?_ Why was his admirer like this?

Each day was driving him a little closer to insane— first the audacity of coercing his family into cooperating, next was invading his space, then making unsolicited adjustments to his things, and now _this_?

Tobirama had thought today would pass without a single hiccup— morning came and there was no food or signs of anyone having broken into his car, no books or reorganization of his things, no random trinkets or gifts hanging about. He'd checked all the pockets of his clothing, laid his clothes out before he showered and examined them when he got out. No changes. Towel wrapped around his waist, he was ready to pull on his pajamas and go to bed.

Except there were no pajamas. His drawer was _empty_. His laundry hamper, the laundry room— there was nothing in the boxes that Hashirama left behind when he moved either. He had no pajamas anywhere. Wrenching a hand through his hair in frustration, he stomped into his brothers' room, trying not to shiver from the chilly air.

Kawarama and Itama were lounging about, Itama sleeping in an uncomfortable position— half on the bed, halfway off with his head near to the ground— and Kawarama bent over what looked like an empty wasps' nest with a magnifying glass and tweezers. Tobirama knocked on the wall to get his attention.

"Ah, there you are Tobi-nii. I was wondering when you'd notice. Shame brother, usually you are more observant." Kawarama grinned, gently setting aside his tools.

Tobirama scowled, tightening the knot on his towel before freeing his hands to sign. **_Where are my pajamas?_**

"That's a good question!" Kawarama nodded encouragingly before shaking his head and shrugging. "I have no idea."

**_Kawarama._ **

Who said you needed to use a voice to sound your irritation? Tobirama did just fine with his facial expressions alone. His little brother blanched, waving his hands placatingly.

"No really, Tobi-nii! I have no idea! All I know is your admirer and..a couple of um friends? Yeah friends! They and couple of friends went through yours and Anija's things and took all the pajamas. He left me with this to give you!" Kawarama scrambled up from his seat, all but diving into his closet and rummaging around the mess that lay on the floor (for all that his two younger brothers were neat with their school items and projects, they were pigs regarding their clothes and room). Jackets, hoodies, pants, empty snack bags, and even broken pieces of machinery (that had to be Kawarama, Itama preferred feeding his interests through books and the internet rather than hands-on) tumbled out of the closet. With a noise of triumph, Kawarama pulled back, box in hands and raised high over his head. "Here it is!"

A pillow bounced off of Kawarama's head. "Isn't it too late for you to be making so much noise? Some people are trying to _sleep_." Itama grumped, rubbing his eyes as he settled himself more comfortably onto the bed.

"Oi, asshole!" Kawarama set the box aside, hurling the pillow back at the other boy, laughing as it smacked him in the face.

Tobirama rubbed his brow in frustration. He was cold and a little wet and these two were going to fight—

"Kawarama-nii!" Itama growled, launching himself off the bed. He tackled the caramel-haired boy into the clothing, grabbing a large stuffed toy Tobirama was sure their parents had tried giving away years ago, and beating Kawarama with it.

Tobirama sighed, settling himself into the desk chair, examining Kawarama's work. It was rather fascinating— the idea of mimicking the interwoven structure of a wasps' nest into data cabling and wiring but Tobirama wasn't sure how practical or efficient that would be. He peered through the magnifying glass.

"Hey! Get off! Itama!" Kawarama snarled. He wrestled the toy out of the younger boy's hands and rolled them over. Tobirama glanced up and _oh look_ , there was a whole file tucked into a corner of the desk genetic modifications and altering. That had to be Itama's. Maybe...

Itama shrieked, kicking out. Kawarama pressed his weight down more, knuckles digging into Itama's scalp. "That's cheating! Tobi-nii help!"

"Poor baby. What's the matter I-ta-ma-chan? Am I messing up your hair?"

Tobirama picked up some of the broken pieces from the ground, eyeing them thoughtfully. They looked to be from a clock. He looked around...cologne bottle, fishless fish tank, the fan, hmm.

"Screw you!"

"Gross Ita. Get a girlfriend, loser." Kawarama stuck a finger in his mouth, shoving the wet digit into Itama's ear. "Swirly!"

Itama head-butted Kawarama with a wail of disgust, a stream of profanity leaving his lips as he slapped at his older brother.

Tobirama stepped out of the room, closing the door quietly.

Suddenly an alarm sounded out, the rhythmic _beep beep beep_ making Tobirama shake with silent laughter.

"Ah, ni-san!" Itama cried out.

"Oh gross, my mouth. Turn it off! I'll get your present and pajamas! Just turn it off ni-san!" Kawarama pleaded.

Tobirama turned off the alarm clock in his hands, stepping back into the room with a wide, only a touch malicious, grin. The room was dry for the most part, his brothers and the area they were in however, well that had been doused in water, their hair pasting to their faces.

Sniffling, Itama looked at Tobirama as if betrayed. "I thought you loved me."

Kawarama snorted, trying to pull an annoyed affect but ruining it with the awe-struck smile. " _I'm_ his favorite and then you and Anija. _I'm_ his guinea pig and then you and Anija. Really, _you're lucky._ "

**_I love you all the same._ **

"Bullshit. Take your present and go ni-san. I think it's pajamas. Oh, and can you show me how you did that later?"

With a nod and indulgent smile, Tobirama finally made it back to his room, desperate for some clothes. All but tearing through the paper in very un-Tobirama-like fashion, he opened the box eagerly, hand brushing on soft, soft fabric—

And stared in outrage.

Inside was a _bunny onesie_. With a long-eared hood, socked feet, and sleeves that would cover his hands. _And an attached tail._

It had to be a joke— there was no way his admirer would— he pulled the outfit from the box, revealing the letter.

 _Hey snow-bunny, like your gift? Don't worry, I washed it and just up your alley_ — _did you feel how soft it is?_ _See you in four days, love._

Tobirama growled, yanking the outfit on petulantly. He didn't like it at all but it's not like he had a choice. He supposed he was lucky though, it was soft. And warm. And it smelled delightful, like a fresh spring on a clear day. 

....Damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for anyone that reads my other stories: which characterization of these characters-- mainly Hashirama, Madara, Tobirama, and Izuna-- do you like best and why? 
> 
> Happy New Years everyone!


	9. Weapons-A-Flying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I found a twitter with the same username as the one I use which wow, terrible coincidence there because we are two different people. Just wanted to mention in case someone saw it too and wondered lol

Tobirama sneezed, batting ineffectually at the pollen-heavy air. _What the hell?_ Did Anija grow another garden in his office? He'd hope Hashirama would stop such inanities when he had finally grown a garden in his backyard and in his own office— it was terribly unbecoming, the wild assortment of flowers crawling along the walls as if the Hokage Office were a greenery rather than a place of administrative work and leadership. But Tobirama stopped complaining, stopped lecturing, just to spare himself of having the wilderness within _his_ office walls ( _"Tobi, you know I can't work like this! I am one with the earth! I need the fresh air and..and freshness. The office is so_ _stale_ _and it, the plain..monotony— like a plant watered with sake!)._ He still wasn't sure what exactly his brother meant by that when they kept the windows open all the damn time and Anija _loved_ sake. Tobirama's eyes were watery, already beginning to puff up slightly from his allergies, his sinuses swelling with pressure unpleasantly.

Not roses _again_. What could Mito have done now for his brother to be this hopelessly loved up? Probably not much. The last time all she'd done was give Hashirama something to tie his hair. There were even more flowers this time though, Tobirama was sure of it, he felt as if he were going to _die_. Mito probably helped him comb his hair this time or something equally ridiculous.

Tobirama hurried to his window, the feeling of his nose about to start running making him a tad more than desperate (he hated the feeling, it was so gross and he never had enough tissues or soap to wash his hands), swinging them open as wide as they could go, and using a wind jutsu to try and clear the air.

It worked well enough, sweeping out the accumulated pollen and letting Tobirama's sensitivities calm to a more reasonable irritation. He dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve, sniffling horribly, casting a wary look around his office. Nine small bouquets were spread about his office, each of them a different flower: red camellias, white roses (damn it), daisies, pink roses (Sage damn it), white camellias, azaleas, cherry blossoms, hibiscus, and verbena. In the center of every bunch was a single tightly bound scroll of parchment.

Mito glided in, pausing mid stride. "Huh, I would have assumed this to be the work of your brother but he should be well aware of your allergies by now. I suppose this must be the work of the admirer I've been hearing about?"

"Anija told you." Tobirama sighed. He'd been hoping to keep the whole ordeal private until he figured everything out. Mito settled herself in a chair, flicking out her own scroll and pulling from it a pot of hot tea and two cups. She filled them, handing one to Tobirama and sipping from her own for a quiet moment.

"Actually I found out from a Hyuuga I was not even familiar with. It appears the whole village is quite intrigued about what is going on." She tapped her finger on the rim of the cup idly. "I hear it has been drawing much attention."

Tobirama carefully put his cup down before they slipped from his fingers, feeling terribly faint. "The whole village?"

His reputation must be in shambles. Kami knew what the villagers would think for one of their esteemed leaders to suffer such ceaseless attentions without a clue as to who their perpetrator(s) was. It was sure to make them feel unsafe—

"Even the civilians. Do not worry, brother. Word has it your admirers are Izuna and Shiori and that they want you to be a part of their relationship. No one has doubts whether or not you know the gifter— they believe you to be well aware and just basking in the attention. Many of the elderly women believe it'll be good for you, get you to settle down as 'one of your age and status should.' It's been quite entertaining."

Mito smiled coyly behind her cup. "But I am sure that is not the case, is it, Tobirama?"

Dropping his face in his hands, a rare bout of emotion he'd only recently grown comfortable in showing, Tobirama huffed in frustration. "I had thought much the same but they both know this game would not be necessary to speak to me. Besides, there was no denying his chakra— Izuna was surprised to see the gifts."

His sister-in-law leaned a tad closer, calm affect belying the eagerness dancing in her own chakra. "Would you have agreed if it were?"

"Absolutely not! I am rather fine with the friendship I've with them." His face was flushed, he knew it was, the heat beneath his cheeks too much to deny even to himself, but he'd been around an intoxicated Izuna and Shiori before. Their musings regarding him, or rather what they could and would do with him, were a little...intense. Embarrassingly so, regardless of his less-than-experienced self. Even Hashirama had been embarrassed. Murderously so. After repairing all the damage, the bar they'd gone to became the first and, so far, only establishment in current existence to ban the Hokage.

It took Izuna and him weeks to be able to look at one another again, if only so Tobirama could laugh at the flower-shaped bruises that had reappeared on Izuna's skin (Izuna had been whispering apologies to an awkward Tobirama _"I am so sorry, I really didn't mean to say I'd use ninja wire on you that way—I mean unless you wanted me to but we're friends unless you wanted to be more than friends. I've never looked at you that way but I can see why people would and—_ and Hashirama overheard, thus flower-shaped bruises). Shiori, on the other hand, was unrepentant and more than willing to revisit her thoughts aloud, and in even more detail, while sober, only ceasing her constant teases when Tobirama all but begged her to, face so red from the redirection of his blood that he verged on passing out. He had to divulge some information of course, pity was not her style no matter how _bothersome_ it was to be so merciless, and, though it were not the first time, Tobirama felt a weight leaving him upon admitting that no, he had no inclination towards women in that manner.

She still teased him on occasion, originally about Izuna and his _wonderful_ skills if ever Tobirama were to be interested ( _"I don't mind sharing Tobirama-san, Izuna has much love to give after all")_ but recently she'd caught the way Tobirama's eyes lingered on the elder Uchiha brother, always for a moment too long. Recently as in a few days prior, a coincidence in that it immediately following when Izuna realized Tobirama's attraction to Madara, and Tobirama had never cursed someone's competence so vehemently. Now he knew too much about both brothers ( _"word on the streets has it that Madara-san...rumors of the brothel says he's...I've heard you've seen him in the public baths, his last bedmate has much to say about what you saw,_ _good_ _things...")_ and could only really face one despite that in non-professional settings.

If his mind turned over the things Shiori told him, if he wondered along a dangerous train of thought whenever he could excuse such shameless behavior (the dark of night, when it was just him and his four walls was such a time, perfect in its privacy and solitude and no eyes to see too much), he would not dare say. Unless Madara was flattered by such a thing; Tobirama could push back his pride a little if it meant bolstering the other man's, especially if it meant Madara would look at him awestruck and impressed as he ever so often does when Tobirama brings forth a favorable idea or mentions his own accomplishments (Tobirama's abilities with various releases had Madara practically bragging about Tobirama to visiting delegates— _"Konoha's genius"_ he'd called Tobirama, preening and proud in a way that made Tobirama feel surprisingly more pleased than appropriately abashed).

"And Madara-san?" The wicked glint in Mito's eye was unmistakable, grin stretched wide like a cat that caught the canary.

"What of him?" Tobirama sniffed, willing his pale skin to not to keep betraying him and knowing it was useless when his sister-in-law laughed, red hair tossed back in her break of composure.

It took a few minutes for her laughter to subside. Sobering, she smiled fondly, packing up her cup and standing. "I must be on my way Tobirama. Let me know when you figure out what of Madara, hm? Would you like me to remove the roses from here?"

At his acquiescence, she quickly untied the scrolls, tossing them to him, and whisked out with the two rose bouquets. Tobirama scanned them as usual, unbinding them when it came back clear and startled backwards, just barely having time to pull a shield of water in front of him. Shuriken and kunai embedded into the semi-liquid structure, inched from his face. A note landed on the floor.

_I was not sure which bouquet you would have opened first so some variant of this note is in every scroll. I had left a letter on your desk but I won't be surprised if it somehow got buried beneath your work. Every scroll contains weapons, actual practical gifts for a shinobi of your caliber. I worry my sealing skills are subpar and apologize if the weapons shoot themselves out at you rather than lay flat. These scrolls hold the most naturally dangerous of my gifts— knowing your skill the others could be just as deadly in your hands but otherwise, you should not need to be too worried of what else you'll be gifted with today. I ask you read the rest of the note after you've opened the other gifts._

Tobirama eyed the other seven bouquets and scrolls warily. This was going to take some time. 

Twenty minutes, many handkerchiefs (unfortunately much more than he even owned so now he owed Izuna, Anija, and the mission clerks some— not that Hashirama knew. The man would be insufferable if he thought Tobirama was sick), and a few more wind jutsus, Tobirama was finally finished opening all of the scrolls. In addition to the shuriken and kunai, there were explosive tags with parchment paper and ink, senbon, smoke bombs, a copy of the Nara Medical Encyclopedia (he'd only seen it once before, when Shiori was feeling particularly generous), an antidote that claimed to cure the most common poisons they were currently dealing with, a cream of sorts, and a surprisingly comfortable bed roll for travels (it was the perfect balance of soft and firm, thicker than the threadbare futon he usually resigned himself to at night).

It was a thoughtful and logical gift, if mind-bogglingly expensive. The pain and frustration, the headache of keeping one's weapons well stocked was one even Tobirama struggled to keep on top of when he had so much to do. There had been too many occasion where he had to resort to just using his sword when it wasn't nearly as efficient or make do with what he could use from the environment he was in due to having run low on weapons at an importune moment.

Tobirama turned the container of cream in his hands, twisting the cap open to examine it. It had a consistency not unlike a lotion or salve and carried an herbal scent. For once though, Tobirama truly had no idea what it was nor any idea on how to figure it out without potentially bringing harm to himself or anyone else.

He turned to the letter.

_On the ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me nine ladies dancing, eight maids-a-milking, seven swans-a-swimming, six geese-a-laying, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_On the ninth day of Christmas your admirer gave to thee nine ninja weapons, eight words-a-saying, seven gods-a-blessing,_   
_six blades-a-slaying, five picture frames, four dragon stones, three eyes seeing, two dark chocolates, and a tiny leopard baby_

_I hope none of the weapons injured you though, knowing how capable you are, I highly doubt it, my dear. The salve, I believe you might not recognize it. It is a well-held secret of the Hyuuga, a healing salve believed the heal all injuries, though not the more grievous of them I am sure. May these weapons and tools serve you well. I saw where you hung the painting_ — _I thank you for the opportunity._ _Now the days feel too long yet not long enough and I find myself nervous when nothing has made me so before. I await the day I no longer have to hide_.

Tobirama couldn't help but wait for it too. Until then, he could get all of this packed away in the organizer he'd been gifted by Hashirama for the Solstice.

** Version 2: **

(After having opened the presents; Tobi is currently keeping his courtship with Madara private)

"Madara, that is _not_ how we pack weapons!" Tobirama sighed upon seeing the other man when he came to deliver his paperwork. If he were any slower, he'd probably have a significant less amount of skin on his face and arms.

"I know! I just— I use a gunbai Tobirama! I don't _pack_ it anywhere, let alone a bloody scroll! Madara flailed, hands waving about emphatically. "You— you didn't get hurt, did you?"

Something fond crossed Tobirama's lips and he struggled to hide it behind a scowl.

"Of course not Uchiha. I'm letting you know so you don't hurt yourself when the time comes you do need to pack weapons properly."

Madara's mouth dropped in indignation before a thoughtful expression flit across his face.

"I appreciate your care, Tobirama." He said, head bowing slightly. "I wouldn't have thought myself deserving of such an honor."

Tobirama flushed, embarrassed. The sincerity of the words were in direct objection to the smirk on Madara's face and he knew he was being teased. He struggled for something biting to say.

"Piss off." He grumbled, annoyed that his wit had chosen now to fail him and turned back to work, ignoring the raucous laughter trailing behind Madara as the man left the room. 

————————————————

Tobirama opened his door with a smile, easily looping his arms around the sleeping child in Madara's arms and pulling him into his own instead. Madara returned the smile, if a bit tiredly, the skin beneath his eyes dark from lack of sleep, brushing his hands through his hair and retying the ponytail he often wore it in when going to work. Tobirama sighed quietly to himself. Madara's hair used to be really long but when he decided to join the CIA (he thought Tobirama didn't know because no one else did, but hello, no one else but he had done a science and writing internship with the agency and actually saw him there. It was luck alone that Madara was hurrying out the other side of the room, too focused on the agents speaking to him and the folder in his hand that the man didn't notice that Tobirama was there. Tobirama had to thank his self control that he didn't preen proudly right then and there because that was _his_ friend in a respected leadership position, as he always knew Madara would be) he cut it to just a bit past his shoulders. Madara straightened his suit before shaking the sleeves back to free his hands to sign.

**_Thank you again. I know it was last minute._ **

Tobirama shook his head, gesturing to Kagami before signing the word **_Fine_**.

He adored babysitting the eight year old after all. When Madara became Kagami's temporary guardian when his older brother Tsukiya had gotten into a severe accident, he'd been so worried about how he would juggle work and providing for the child. Tobirama had only been too glad to adjust his work availability and other responsibilities so that he could have at least one day open to spend with Kagami. It was just his luck he'd been able to weasel out of work for an extra day, _paid_ too— being an overly dedicated worker had some perks. And he loved getting to see the child's caretaker. Really, it was nothing but a win-win situation for him. Nodding his head to welcome the man in, Tobirama walked to the living room and gently placed the boy on the couch bed he'd already set up. Standing upright after carefully tucking Kagami in, the snow leopard plush tucked up beneath his chin, Tobirama glanced at the wall clock ( _sweet,_ a good hour before Madara had to be at work and they only lived maybe ten minutes away if the man took his time), making sure the man followed where his eyes were looking, before turning back to make eye contact with Madara.

**_Want some tea or coffee?_ **

Madara grinned, a teasing lilt on his lips, looking more awake than he did on the porch.

**_I shouldn't. Knowing you, we'll probably find something to distract us, some argument you're too stubborn to admit being wrong in, and then I'll be late._ **

Scoffing, Tobirama turned towards the kitchen anyways, smirking to himself as he felt Madara follow behind. He switched the pot on, still a little warm from when their dad was making his own cup that morning, and grabbed two cups, dumping a small package of shincha in the filter, placing Madara's cup beneath the spout. He scooped some coffee into his own cup, filled it with water and popped it in the microwave for a few minutes.

Madara stared at him, horrified.

**_The microwave?_ **

Madara signed weakly. Tobirama wrinkled his nose in distaste. Sign language needed firm signs, not whatever that was. He'll have to remind him through demonstration despite the obvious question.

**_Yes. What about it?_ **

Madara looked anguished, truly despaired that Tobirama did not seem to understand what he was asking. The horror hit a higher amplitude.

 **_ That's _ ** **_how you make your coffee?_ **

Tobirama rolled his eyes and shrugged. He'd forgotten about Madara's vehemence on proper tea and coffee brewery. Personally, Tobirama liked his beverages well steeped too but he wasn't opposed to a method that accomplished something similar quicker.

**_It works._ **

Madara's mouth dropped, affecting a perfect expression of Hashirama right before the man would start wailing.

**_Blasphemy. You are an utter heathen. Tell me, do you put ranch on your pizza as well?_ **

Eww gross. No he did not but if it bothered Madara—

**_When the mood strikes._ **

Tobirama laughed. He could almost _feel_ the disgust roiling off the Uchiha. The man marched dramatically to the entryway, nose raised to the sky pompously, pausing to look at Tobirama.

**_That's it, I'm leaving. Kagami can't stay here either. He looks up to you. You'll demonize him._ **

**_You found out my motives. You cannot be spared._ **

**_I'll like to see you try! But I'm warning you, your parents love me. They'll be devastated._ **

Tobirama snorted. It was true. His parents adored Madara— if they weren't always casually dropping hints about how much they think Tobirama and Madara would make a "cute" couple, Tobirama was sure they probably would've adopted the older man some years ago. He shook his head, rolling his eyes to hide the fond smile stretching across his lips, handing the tea to Madara and pulling his own cup from the microwave before settling down at the kitchen table and gesturing for Madara to do the same.

The morning passed quickly, Madara spending as much time as he could before he risked the chance of running late and Kagami sleeping in well after ten o'clock, giving Tobirama ample time to complete his homework and get a decent headway into the work he'd brought home with him. His admirer hadn't crossed his mind once between getting Kagami fed and then letting the little boy drag him outside to play in the snow.

Tobirama had all but forgotten about the gifts until he returned from the bathroom, pleasantly warm after the hot shower he was able to take (how he loved the days Itama wasn't there to use all the hot water— his brat of a little brother was on some health convention the city over and staying with Hashirama haha suck it, Anija. Let's see who needs to adjust their schedule better now) to see Kagami huddled up beneath the blankets, the Polar Express already playing on screen. A familiar sight given all the movie nights the two of them had together. No, it was what was atop the table that gave him pause. A cup near overflowing with whipped cream was placed in the center— which not unusual either— but Tobirama was certain he nor anyone in the household owned a cup with the planets painted on the ceramic.

"There you are Tobi! Uncle Mada said your admirer said to make your hot chocolate in this cup. It's clean! Uncle Hidetada helped wash it earlier."

Now Tobirama had been encouraging Kagami to learn Sign Language but this warranted speaking, irregardless of the almost underdeveloped sound of his voice having been born hard of hearing.

"Where did you hide that cup?"

Kagami scrunched his nose— he wasn't quite a fan of Tobirama's voice and was still too young to realize how offensively his distaste could be taken— but answered anyways. "In my bag. Uncle Zuna said the admirer handed it to him so I could hand it to you but I had to keep it a secret!"

"And the hot chocolate? You know you aren't to mess with hot or sharp things without me."

"Don't worry Tobi! Grandma made it and put it in a thermos for me. I just had to pour it out. And put the whip cream on top. I'm _eight_. I _can_ do that, you know. Oh! And Grandpa says that your admirer says that you have three days. I don’t know what that means but he said that was your note."

Tobirama blinked owlishly. So all the Uchiha brothers and their parents as well as his own family were involved in this affair— they'd even dragged Kagami into it. He hadn't expected his admirer to go to such lengths for a few gifts.

It was much appreciated though, he thought, tracing a finger along the rings of Neptune. Even more so when the rich taste of dark hot chocolate with the perfect amount of mint touched his tongue. He'd really have to make sure his own gifts were just as thoughtful and nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I made it clear but Tobirama was born Hard of Hearing, he uses hearing aids and wouldn't be able to hear you unless you probably screamed right by his ear. However, like many deaf people, he choses not to speak though mostly because he personally feels self-conscious about how he sounds. As is often the case, due to having impaired hearing, the vocal cords aren't able to capture language nuances well and can affect the way one speaks rather significantly. Tobirama does still speak, mostly to those who don't know sign language or don't understand it well enough, the latter of which being Kagami's case. 
> 
> I am so close to finishing this one that I can almost taste it which would make this my first completed longer fic so yayyyyy
> 
> Questions for you guys: which version/part do you like best-- the canon-divergence, canon-divergence version two, or the modern version? Which version would you like to see more detail in? What do you think of the gifts Tobi's been getting and what are your thoughts for the ending?
> 
> For any unfortunate readers reading my other works:
> 
> Chapter 7 of See Me Through Another's Eyes is in the works-- I'm saying maybe another two weeks though because I still haven't figured out an outline for this story. Any suggestions, any thoughts where you'd like to see it go would be much appreciated.
> 
> Chapter 5 of Arrangements and Rearrangements-- yeah, that's even more of a work in progress than the aforementioned fic, mostly because its going to get more intense and I really want to capture that properly. 
> 
> Question for these readers: I don't know if it is noticeable but I have been trying to keep each chapter focused on two maybe three "events" so to speak. How is that working out-- is there too much going on and I should focus on one event and really build on it or is it a good pace?
> 
> Please comment your thoughts as this helps me become a more inspired and better writer! Even the most simple of comments are super motivational so thank you!


	10. Just Some Info

So guys, here’s the idea: 

As was before, this chapter will be replaced with the actual chapter when I’ve completed it. In a bid to expand more on the different universes, the next chapter will be a bit different. Before I had just posed the reactions of canon au and canon 2 differently, but this time around the events themselves will occur differently. The Modern au will probably remain the same, just more worldbuilding. 

Question: would we like more worldbuilding in the canon au, either version? 

Also, I would like to apologize for the delay. I’m currently taking a considerable course load of 17 credits while volunteering, working, and dealing with more personal things as well. This story was supposed to be done ages ago though *facepalm* I would like to finish it before the month is over but I won’t promise anything because of this whole mess. 

Again, thanks for all your patience though!! 

**Author's Note:**

> I have other stories I should be working on and yeah, that’s not happening sooooo I want to get this done by Christmas but I make no promises. 
> 
> Also, the modern AU. One of my personal favorite AU ideas is Tobirama being deaf for no particular reason (hard-of-hearing actually, but the deaf community, in America at least, is comprised of both people who are deaf and hard-of-hearing that feel that they belong to the community and practice the culture. So he uses the term deaf in reference to his condition). 
> 
> I was going to leave the relationship tag out as a “surprise” but thought about it, and decided that might be a little stupid since many only read for certain ships. 
> 
> Questions/comments let me know what you guys think!


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